Sitting on the eve of the last of this term’s final exams, a day that will be the mark signifying the close of my first term in seminary, though it technically doesn’t end till Monday. Eighty days ago I was leaning on the edge of another eve, standing in the garage staring at bed of my father’s truck, my belongings loaded and wrapped securely in tarp and ducktape, ready for the 13 hour drive from Iowa to Pittsburgh that we would do straight through on the next day, getting me there four hours before orientation. Seventy three days ago the beginning of my seminary education dawned as I walked into classroom and found a seat for my first lecture in Church History.
Much has happened in that relatively short amount of time, so much that I can’t possibly transpose it all here and some can’t even be articulated with any sort of adequacy. But in the current state of thanksgiving and the impending season of Advent, reflecting on the churning inside, all the good and the bad and the in between, I can’t help but be grateful (Please note I am treating my gratitude for God as a given and I am expounding on specific things that I’ve received through God for which I am grateful).
I am grateful for the community of friends I have made. As excited as I was to come here, I was also afraid. Afraid that I wouldn’t find a place here, that I would be what a lot of artists in the church experience – a great novelty item to have but left alone unless their skills can be rendered for a specified thing. Since I was learning how to swim in waters I had never before tread I was worried I would drown, and be forced to face the disappointment of all those I loved who supported me being here and lose the new friends I would acquire. But those fears, like all fear, were unfounded, for daily I encounter love and acceptance from the people who form the pieces of my new life here, whether they realize they are doing it or not. The encouragement to grow and wanting me to share the gifts they see in me, allowing me an outlet to merge what I am learning with my art. And for treating me as an equal.
For the network of faculty and staff, who in all their various and sometimes unseen jobs do it all very well. I have been pushed and challenged. I have read more pages than I thought humanly possible in such a small amount of time. I have wrestled, struggled, and strived to understand, remember, and memorize. And I have realized that the outcome to all the time invested in lectures, readings, homework, and quizzes isn’t necessarily to get a good grade, as nice as those are, but to be as prepared for the life of ministry I am seeking to serve. So I am grateful and indebited to their knowledge and their care.
And for the people who have seen seminary on my path long before I did, who waited for me to see it, and who celebrated with me when I found it. For those who also saw this in my future and were very persistent in pursuing me about it. For those who supported me whole heartedly when I announced I had discovered this path, who let me know no matter how far away I go I will never lose them.
There is more I could expound upon, but in this current moment and in my current place, these are some of the things for which I am most grateful, because they have gotten me here, and here is where I am supposed to be.
MDiv student Rebecca Dix wrote this reflection after her first term at Pittsburgh Seminary. She’s now a grad (times two) having earned her master of divinity and master of theology degrees. When not cooking or crafting, she’s performing spoken word pieces and writing for her blog Single Woman Speaking, which serves as an intentional place for single women of the Christian faith to speak and share their notions of self and faith with the world.