Emotional rollercoasters

So long as I must spend a headachy, sore-throaty Saturday, there are worse ways to do it than sitting wrapped up in my threadbare basement armchair with a laptop connected to the Internet. This seems an ideal time to give a brief chronicle of the last few weeks.

Two and a half weeks ago I was extremely depressed. It's hardly possible for me to recollect how I felt, because it is so different from the way I feel now. I had found what looked like the perfect grad school opportunity, and I felt like I was ready to go this upcoming fall. I'd adapted to adult life with a job, independent study, and self-government. But instead of grad school, I was heading back to PHC. I developed a bad attitude about PHC and could only see its negative aspects. What did the coming school year hold that would be pleasant? I couldn't see anything. After a few days of this, reluctantly I asked God to show me.

Shortly after I took my break from blogging, Christy called me up with an astonishing, wonderful, humbling offer. Did I want to help her by being her producer as she directed the Eden Troupe play this fall? Oh boy, did I! We had several long telephone conversations, which were like water to a thirsty soul (thanks Christy!). I was so grateful to God for opening up this opportunity.

That's when the blow hit. I emailed PHC to check on my scholarship, since I had received nothing about it, and I found that the Accounting department didn't even know I was coming back in the fall. They told me that my scholarship funds were just about gone. Now, Dr. F. had verbally promised me a scholarship for my fifth year, which is the only reason we went ahead with my double major. So I emailed him personally. After a few days, I still had heard no reply. I had to tell my parents.

Now ensued a week of uncertainty and misery. We were looking at over $21,000 for my final year. For a family in which five children are taking undergraduate classes and one father is working for a Ph.D., that is impossible. I would have to raise it all myself, in two and a half months. Without a scholarship, my possibilities were few and unpleasant: (1) Take another year off, thus delaying my life even more; (2) Take out loans, thus putting myself into debt; (3) Attend part-time and work simultaneously, which seemed far-fetched.

When my parents told me that, I hit rock-bottom. It's been hard enough for me, someone who loves people and friendships, to be in limbo here at home the last six months. I have missed you all at PHC so much, and this has been coupled with the uneasy, insecure feeling that everyone can get along just swimmingly without missing me at all in return. What could happen in another year? It didn't seem right for me to be at home another year. It didn't fit. I found myself struggling with demons of bitterness and doubt, two things that have never had much power over me before. I needed God. Boy, did I need God!

(Let me say right here that when I called you for scholarship advice, Nate, I so appreciate it that the first thing you did was stop to pray. That was just what I hoped for from you.)

In my helplessness, I gave in and laid some of my problems not only on God but also on the people around me. I burst out sobbing in front of my parents. As soon as she saw me crying, my mom shot off like a raging wildebeast to track down my promised scholarship. In the meanwhile, she suggested that I sell some of her books from our packed basement shelves - and keep the money. Christy called me with troubles of her own, and yet she was still willing to listen to my woe. Nate dropped everything to help me with scholasrhip ideas for an hour. I was incredibly encouraged and humbled. What could I possibly have done to deserve such a family and friends? Absolutely nothing. This was their grace at work, just when I needed it most. And I needed it. I was a drowning woman grasping, and the hand was there.

So I began to sell books on amazon.com, including my mom's tremendous collection of graphic novels. And after several very long days, my mom at last managed to talk personally with Dr. Farris. He returned her call during his lunch break from judging the NCFCA tournament and personally assured me a scholarship for my last year. He sent an email saying the same thing. Further, he is going to talk to the family that gave me my larger scholarship the last four years and see if they will extend it! !! !! !! !! I'm coming back this year after all!

So I can only conclude that God has a need for a hopeful, happy, grateful me at PHC during the upcoming year instead of a gloomy, pessimistic toad of a person someplace else. I never knew how much I wanted to be at PHC this fall until I almost wasn't going to be.

That was a bit rambly, but what else do you expect from someone with a head that feels as though it is pressurized to twice its normal size?  ¶ 12:02 PM