Next to Dorm 12, now a girl's dorm, stands my old reading tree. As a sophomore, I spent many hours in its high branches reading anything and everything. Crossing the parking lot, the sight of Dorm 14 brought a smile to my pensive countenance. Senior year I would often stop by Jessica and Sarah's window to talk on the way to my dorm. With the Keyhole parking lot behind me, I crossed the lamp-lit street to the intramural field and spent a few minutes watching an ultimate frisbee game. The customary light up frisbee spurred memories of freshman year. Night after night, Baina and Jeff would power their light up frisbees the length of the field as I battled with Aaron Meng in the endzone. His athleticism and defensive insticts often triumphed over my amature freshman frisbee skills.
So many memories. Liberty, as I remember it, is a defining part of my life. But as I walked the campus, my Liberty was but a distant memory. Today's student, barely out of high school, walks the campus with his head buried in his cell phone, earphones poking through his hair. I found myself lost in a sea of unknown faces. My friends have moved on. The freshman hall that I led as a senior is now dispersed off campus or in scattered leadership positions. My "enemies" from dorm 16 are now a hall of 70 girls. This Liberty is a great place. But my Liberty now abides solely in the memory banks.
The life that I have come to know and enjoy is amongst Southeastern Seminary students who, on average, are about seven years older than the archetypal Liberty student. The games, pranks, and experiences of my life at Liberty are but a distant, hazy dream to which I may not return. Now awake, this is the dream for which I grasp. I can no more relive those days than a man may resume his place as last night's sleeping hero. Yet, there are some who find themselves still lying in bed striving to gain one last experience of some sub-conscious world. There is no going back. It is time to get out of bed.
"When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things." Every man must accept that the childish will never again be possible. Now, as a man, the future is bright. I will never return to those Liberty days, but they have prepared me well for my life's task. The fruit of that time will always be a part of my life. But for that fruit to sprout other fruit bearing trees I must accept my place in society as a man and follow God's call to go.
The real world awaits. It is time for me to get out of bed.
3 comments:
So true ... I went back and visited PCC after graduation, and found it a completely different place, even down to the frenemies.
The buildings were still there, my haunts were still there (I had a tree too, and a hidden staircase behind a not-often traveled path behind one of the buildings!), and my memories were still pungent and almost overwhleming at times. Yet, those are not what defined my time there. It was the people I was with. The things that we did together. I'm sure that there are areas of the dining hall that still are haunted with the echo of our laughter - or not. There are plenty of others to come along behind and be the next "me."
Even some of my friends were there (as grad students), but even they had changed.
... or perhaps it was I who had changed.
Those days are a catalyst for growth, an agent of change: a season of preparation. We have to have the grace to take the next step; to recognize that. Moving on is a sign of maturity.
Update! ;)
I think it's time for a new update. :0)
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