Conflicted

Have you ever felt stabbed in the back by the dark, cold murky waters of circumstance?

I have.

Today, in fact marks my grizzly death.  Four stabs in the back by evil Mr. Circumstance.

This week all of the InterVarsity staff in the country are gathering for our triennial family reunion National Staff Conference.  Seriously, it’s the most fun you can have while, “working.”  At the last one of these 1200+ gatherings I had the fantastic honor of being a co-emcee of the whole shebang.  It was a raucous time.  This year, I am not going.  And I am sad.  It feels like I’m missing a family reunion and the chance to hug, kiss, love and catch up with all my friends from across the country. *sigh*  It just really sucks.

I’m missing said reunion to participate in my distance learning classes at my grad school. Two weeks of school 8am-5pm.  What also sucks about this is leaving tonight and not seeing my husband or kiddos until next Sat.  Then packing up and leaving for another week.

I have a cold too.

I’m sorry for the big old whine fest.

I’m conflicted because there is a part of me -albeit a small part right now- that really enjoys pursuing higher education.  When I graduate in 2013 (or so) I’ll be 37, ordained and have a Masters of Divinity under my belt.  That will be a joyous day.  But until then, it feels like one giant sacrifice after another.

One wouldn’t think that missing an InterVarsity conference after attending say, 35 or so in the last 12 years would be such a “sacrifice,” but it is.  Because I wholeheartedly love the people I work with.  They “get me” and I get them.  We read the same and similar books, we approach Scripture in very similar ways, we think about missions, conflict, justice, and other issues very similarly.  We understand one another.  We are many different ethnicity’s and cultures, ages and denominations but our doctrinal basis &  our core values unite us in profound ways.  In short, I love them.

So, I’m sad.

On a happy note, I get to live these next two weeks with one of my besties, Marla.  We met at school a few years ago, so I consider her a gift from Western Seminary to me.

Here goes nothin’…