I'm in Chicago for my summer visit. I think I've only missed two summers. Our whole family (when it was whole) would come up when my dad would have his June trade show. It's a city with many, many memories, both amazingly good and searingly painful. Last year was the first time I really felt rested on a vacation in many years. I could decide when I wanted to leave and stay, there was no rush, and I was able to feel peaceful and removed from responsibilities - a good feeling for any oldest child. I knew that I would be catching up on some things and doing somethings and enjoying people. Yesterday, I was with my cousin and we walked around Chicago, had a classic American dinner, and just enjoyed laughing and giggling. The weather was nothing short of fantastic, especially considering that I had just come from Atlanta, where you basically have the option of walking or swimming as you go from point A to point B with the amount of humidity there is. Last year, in Chicago, there were some of the most spectacular thunder storms I've seen in the city. This year, I left those in Georgia. I'm currently enjoying the summer breeze through an opened window in a house with no central AC. Summer in Chicago it is. But this post isn't about this so much as what I want to share today.
I have a second chance. Many of you know, but those who don't, I will share. In my foray into overloading an already taxed schedule while feeling down in the dumps, I managed to fail a class. Yes, I did it. I made two As, a B, then an F. While my computing brain can handle a lot of work, the motivational, do it part failed. Summing up my exact actions, I was rebelling outright from the work. I decided that I could not continue taking classes and living academic life the way I have been for the past 25 years. I opted out of classes for the summer so that I could really search my soul (with God's help) for the root of my rebellion. It's been tough because I have had such a hard time spending time with the Lord. Recent events have been so challenging that I don't know even how to pray or even if prayers for really seeing change occur even matter. I have found that part of this difficulty is owing to my strong faith in mankind to do what is self-serving above all else, a faith that I am finding to be stronger than my faith in God to change hardened hearts. This is a painful thing, and perhaps why I myself believe that I can't overcome my own grave shortcomings. It is a path to hopelessness. But, as I was driving to a friend's a week or so ago, I knew that in my heart I could not deny the existence of God nor Jesus's authority in a fallen world. A true loss of hope would be to walk away, which I can't do because what other hope is there in this world? You face the same losses, the same pain, and your option is to accept the help of a God who offers eternal peace and companionship or face those things alone, risking more suffering through a coping addiction or a cold heart that turns people away. If I am to suffer anyway, the option of future hope greatly dwarfs the alternative. Moving forward with this mentality helps ease some of the pain, but you can't feel deeply all the time, so emotions of frustration, sadness, and anger still get to me often. But I am functioning. And I can finally get something done.
So my second chance? Well, I spoke with the dean of my program, a woman who deserves "awesome" as a descriptor. She's down-to-earth, realistic, and understanding. And while I was apprehensive about discussing such a shameful thing as failing a graduate class, I decided that I would despise the shame, humbly explain my situation, and confront the consequence head-on. What could I lose? The God of all the universe already knew every horrific thought, intention, motivation, and deed I had ever been capable of (or ever will be), so fearing wasn't going to impact my salvation, the only thing I really HAVE. I was met with serious compassion, as I explained the challenges of my job along with the emotional downward spiral that started in January. I explained the mounting anxiety of someone in too deep, and how I had done it to myself this time, drowned outright. I asked her about damage control. And I had options! Hopeful, I listened as she told me a possible solution to recover some of the grade. It was not what I produced in the class that got me the grade, and she told me that I really should have received an incomplete. If the professor was open to it, I could complete my missing assignments and the grade could be changed.
Other things have happened since then, but as my July 10 deadline approaches for these assignments, I am reminded that God gives us second chances (and me many more). Not always, but many times He does. I hope that we can all recognize this when we do things wrong and have the chance to set it right for ourselves and others. It's time to make the most of our second chances.
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