Consider This

In my writing class today, we talked about our campaigns for campus change. Students observe a problem, identify root causes of that problem, and then write a plan to motivate people to change. We talk about topics like technology addiction, binge drinking, conformity, unhealthy eating, sleep deprivation, and caffeine dependency.

Every semester, I add in my own observations of something I wish were more true of myself and college students.

I tell them that I'm considering launching my own campaign that encourages us to consider more. In other words, I want more time to think carefully about ideas. Etymologically speaking, the word "consider" comes from the Latin and means, "to examine the stars." I think about this verb in the context of that definition; I want to tilt my head upwards, gaze into the heavens, and consider.

Consider means to think carefully, to look attentively upon, and to contemplate with great care.

I remember my own days at the University of Virginia. I remember the long office conversations about class topics, the dinners with professors in their homes where we discussed ideas, and the hours upon hours that I sat and thought about things. I journaled and sat still in the gardens or on the steps of the Rotunda, and I grappled with ideas about poetry, my faith in God, and what kind of person I wanted to become. I had so much time to think, and there was much to consider.

Now, times have changed. If I have a moment to stop and consider an idea, I'm more likely to check my phone for news and updates. Students agree; free time means technology. Time alone on the bus? That's for Instagram. Time alone in my dorm? That's for texting. Like me, they aren't ever alone with their own thoughts for long periods of time. It's awkward and painful to sit with your own thoughts like this, so we avoid considering altogether.

One of the reasons I love writing is that it offers space to consider an idea. I still journal. I still sit in my rocking chair and think my thoughts--but not as much as I once did. I wonder what would happen if we sat down for a moment and considered something deeply for a long period of time. I'm considering this today and what it would take for me to go back to that girl inside of me who once sat still on the steps, just to think.

Clearer Vision of What's Been There All Along

On the walk to school, I point out in amazement all the blue jays and finches. They fly in and out of the bare tree branches. It's freezing; I have my mittens on and my hood pulled tightly around my face.  Yes, a new season has come.

"Look! Isn't it amazing?" I pause and ask the other adults why the blue jays come out like this every autumn. "It's so strange! It's so wonderful!"

One of them replies, "They are always here. You just can't see them like this when the trees have all their leaves."

I look up into the bleak and empty sky, into the diminished trees, and I realize that some things we can only perceive in just these conditions.

Once again, I know that seasons that come at us harsh and empty and frozen around the edges offer us a clearer vision of what's been there all along.

It was a cold and beautiful walk.

Right Around This Time, It Happens

I feel one special joy that comes with growing older (that I've thought about three or four times just this weekend).

Growing older means you get the joy of helping younger people grow into themselves. It's happening more and more: I'll be somewhere--a party, in my office, in my neighborhood, at church, anywhere--and younger people will ask for advice.

This month, I embrace this role like never before.

I'm at a party, for example, and a group of young women ask me all about how they can love a neighborhood one day. They talked about how comfortable they feel in their church groups and Bible studies, but they experience the nagging feeling that something isn't exactly right.

"It's so comfortable, but. . . "

"Yes," I said. "It's very comfortable, but it's not exciting. I'd rather have exciting than comfortable, so go and love people that aren't in your Bible study." I spoke as a woman who has lived almost twice as long as they have and who still walks children to school every morning. I spoke as a woman who for years turned double-dutch jump ropes for Monday Night Neighborhood Fitness and who danced in my basement with children when it was too cold to meet outside. Why shrink back from my lived experience of loving a neighborhood? Why not tell people with a certain authority?

Then, I go home to emails from students needing advice and recommendations for graduate school. Right around this time (when applications are due), it happens: students become desperate for career direction. I find myself full of new energy as I pass on all I know. As I grow older, I feel decisive and confident. I feel like I can state things I've learned with a new clarity and love.

When scripture talks about the older women teaching the younger, I suddenly know like never before which category I'm in. I still need those older ladies around me, but this year, I find a whole group of younger folks who need someone to love them and help them become who they're becoming.

I do like growing older. And I like considering (and asking you) how we might continue to pass on what we know and help younger people grow. In what form? Where? When? It's exciting to pray towards this end.