Four years ago today I made the decision to move to Nashville, Tennessee. While my testimony is a gorgeous tale of redemption and is revelatory of the Lord's marvelous and mighty ways, I have yet to compose a detailed, chronological piece that entails its events. I fully intend to do so in the near future. However, the radical dated events of God's movement in my life are merely a bold outline of the remarkable journey I have had the privilege of experiencing. As I sat in the familiar office of Mrs. Edgmon today, considering yet another course of action for my degree plan, I realized...this is my somewhere.
I have finally arrived. It feels nothing like I thought it would. It is certainly not the bible college dream I was promised.
Prior to watching my grandparents drive away after they had settled me in an August Richland Avenue, Pop pulled me aside and told me:
"You'll probably find the person you're going to marry here Jade, hopefully a fine preacher-boy. Just keep your head on straight. Pursue the Lord. Do everything for the glory of God, and you'll end up somewhere."
His words empowered and excited me. I recorded them on my heart as if they were prophecy. Soon, every boy on campus was a prospective husband. They all seemed to be good, God-fearing men. My life became about cracking the code: Which one had God designed specifically for me?
"[He] entered the room in a teal shirt. And I knew in that moment he was my one and only.
-Journal Entry, December 14, 2010
-Journal Entry, December 14, 2010
I first met my soulmate in the lunch room over a conversation about the work of Henry David Thoreau. [For the purpose of this piece, we will call him Max.]
Max was a Missions major, president of Global Missions Fellowship, and had the most beautiful hands that I [still to this day] have/had ever seen. He was perfect. Max could walk into a room and my cheeks would flush; I was a bumbling mess around him. His demeanor was mysterious, his posture was elegant; his eloquence was mesmerizing. I fell in love with Max on Tuesday in September. I still get lost in the memory of him walking toward me; it belongs in a box below my bed.
Max and I were not like anyone else. We fit together like poetry. Every day I loved him was romantic-even the bad days. I still sometimes get lost searching for the moment where everything went wrong...where everything tilted.
"I could write books on pre-marital intimacy
And being iron-jawed about boundaries.
But that doesn't unseal anything;
My body still looks foreign to me. "
-Journal Entry, April 17, 2012
-Journal Entry, April 17, 2012
I wish I had known who Levi the Poet was back then. "Pretty in Pornography" would have healed a lot of angry wounds. I also wish I had known my Keeill family. Had I been equipped with the resources I have now, I would have been able to handle many of the situations I dealt with more functionally. I ache about that sometimes...in still moments, when I am in my apartment and incredibly lonely. I have learned a great deal about self-respect, self-control, and understanding our fallenness.
It failed long before either of us had the courage to speak about it. I watched the only person who had every really known me take with him my flesh, my tenderness, my faith in the world, and a great deal of my poetry. My literary mind ached at the symbolism of his clothing preference the day he told me he was no longer in love with me:
He walked into my life in a teal shirt.
He walked into my life in a teal shirt.
He walked out of it
Just the same.
"Dear God,
Where did you go? You lied to me. You promised me
Good things. You promised me I'd end up somewhere."
-Journal Entry, June 17, 2012
After the chime of hypothetical wedding bells faded from faint to non-existent, I was welcomed back into reality by a stark decimal on an unforgiving piece of paper. I have been sucker-punched by a number many times in my life, but the particular brawl my GPA had in mind would keep me battered and bloody for at least a year. These types of situations make us grateful for peculiar Dr. Pate-ish people that are filled to the brim with mercy, acceptance, and bandages.
"Few men in my life are as excellent as Thurman Pate.
His love is reflective of the nature of Christ. I am moved
By his patience with me. Thank you Lord for giving me
Professors that do not lose faith in me even when I make
all the wrong decisions."
-Journal Entry, July 1, 2013
After two difficult years in the English program at Welch, I decided to mend my sores by transferring to the English Education program. My initial belief was that my quirkiness, love for children, and passion for Literature would be the cocktail that would launch me "back into the will of God." It took me completing one set of observation hours to realize I was not born with the gift of teaching. It was hard to accept. To my knowledge I had exhausted every available "panic" button. Not knowing what else to do, I stayed.
This spring Dr. Pate met with me about my still stunted GPA. He informed me that the completion of any degree by May, 2014 would be impossible. I felt defeated and frustrated. As a senior in college my freshman mistakes still plagued me. I hated myself for falling in love with Max; I hated myself for lost time. I grew bitter about all of the previous preoccupations that lead to my present failings. I laid in bed for three days and wept. All my plans had collapsed. I became incredibly resentful toward the Lord. By summer I had already composed letters to my family announcing that I was quitting school.
This spring Dr. Pate met with me about my still stunted GPA. He informed me that the completion of any degree by May, 2014 would be impossible. I felt defeated and frustrated. As a senior in college my freshman mistakes still plagued me. I hated myself for falling in love with Max; I hated myself for lost time. I grew bitter about all of the previous preoccupations that lead to my present failings. I laid in bed for three days and wept. All my plans had collapsed. I became incredibly resentful toward the Lord. By summer I had already composed letters to my family announcing that I was quitting school.
"Try to think of the good things."
-Brooke Fondren
Today the soles of my shoes were welcomed by the same green carpet they became acquainted with my freshman year. I studied Mrs. Edgmon's face as she traced my degree audit. I was sure at any moment she would see the blaring blemishes and flinch. Her expression remained serene. She observed the C's that mar my English GPA, and the D that Dr. Holley gave me after I mouthed off to him. As she drew in a breath to speak, I immediately expected the worst.
"I am glad you decided to come in and have a closer look at this I believe--if things go according to plan--you can walk in May with a degree in Psychology."
I sat stunned. Years of anger, confusion, and heartbreak rolled off my back. I immediately went to the Lord in prayer:
"I am glad you decided to come in and have a closer look at this I believe--if things go according to plan--you can walk in May with a degree in Psychology."
I sat stunned. Years of anger, confusion, and heartbreak rolled off my back. I immediately went to the Lord in prayer:
"What? This is what you've been doing?
All this time? This makes no sense.
This makes absolute sense. Is this really You?
Is this right? This is too much of a miracle not
to be right. You've brought me through four years
of Hell to give me this? This 'Get out of jail free' card?
Why did you let me hurt so much? How could you?
Lord, thank you for growing me immeasurably.
Thank you for every wound, every bruise, every sore spot.
What a gorgeous story you have composed in me."
Had anyone told me four years ago what I would walk into as a bible college student, I would have never attended Welch. Had God revealed to me that I would never marry Max, that I would lose many of my close friends, that I would suffer tremendous heartbreak and handle the repercussions irresponsibly--I would have been unable to cope. I would have most likely turned my back on The Lord in my immaturity and lack of understanding.
Recently, a wise man told me these years are merely my "Preparation," and that I have been "sharpening my axe before The Woods."
His advice:
"Do not go into The Woods with a dull axe,
And never resent the time you spent sharpening your tools."
My life feels like a wreck the majority of the time. I am single. I am still working on my Bachelors after five years in college. I am not at all where I fathomed I would be when I first began this journey. In turn, I am grateful for a Lord that has forced me out of a place of planning and guiding my own course. I do not know what will happen this year; if/as I pursue a Psychology degree at Welch things could go terribly awry. I could end up in the same place of hurt and confusion. Last week, Kevin Hester challenged me to consider the things the Lord has done between the lines of doubt, fear, turmoil and confusion. My degree audit does not reflect the flourishing bouquet that is my life, nor does it reflect the sharpness of my axe.
I praise the Lord for strengthening me as a daughter by giving me the fairytale that fits my own life. It has been brutal, painful, perfect, and magical. I praise the Lord for preparing me for The Woods.
Recently, a wise man told me these years are merely my "Preparation," and that I have been "sharpening my axe before The Woods."
His advice:
"Do not go into The Woods with a dull axe,
And never resent the time you spent sharpening your tools."
My life feels like a wreck the majority of the time. I am single. I am still working on my Bachelors after five years in college. I am not at all where I fathomed I would be when I first began this journey. In turn, I am grateful for a Lord that has forced me out of a place of planning and guiding my own course. I do not know what will happen this year; if/as I pursue a Psychology degree at Welch things could go terribly awry. I could end up in the same place of hurt and confusion. Last week, Kevin Hester challenged me to consider the things the Lord has done between the lines of doubt, fear, turmoil and confusion. My degree audit does not reflect the flourishing bouquet that is my life, nor does it reflect the sharpness of my axe.
I praise the Lord for strengthening me as a daughter by giving me the fairytale that fits my own life. It has been brutal, painful, perfect, and magical. I praise the Lord for preparing me for The Woods.
