First Semester Gone Right

I was scared to death when my parents and I drove up to Burns Hall on August 14th. I knew there was no way I could handle this whole “college” thing. I had left my friends, boyfriend, family, my home, everything six hours away back in Atlanta. I’m from Atlanta, a huge city with something going on every night, and now I am being dumped in Oxford, Mississippi, where if you’ve seen Jackson Avenue, you’ve seen it all. I was so scared of failure, but could feel it coming. Would I have to move back home? Would my parents hate me? I remember just praying that God could get me through fall semester.

I remember walking into my dorm room, Burns 102, and meeting my new roommate. But now she is no longer just my roommate, she is my best friend. I remember meeting the kids in my FASTrack cohort. But now they are no longer just classmates, they are the people who get me through the day. I remember seeing my writing professor for the first time, but now she is no longer just my professor, she is someone I can always count on to have my back. I loved it here. I had found my new home and suddenly Atlanta became a memory, a memory that I loved and cherished, but did not yearn for. Everything seemed to be falling into place. It only took a few weeks for me to decide that God had answered my prayers and not only was I going to get through the semester, I was going to enjoy doing it.

But then I got a call. A call that will forever be imprinted into my memory. A call that changed my life. A call from my dad. A call saying my grandmother was in the hospital. A call saying my grandmother probably would never wake up. I threw everything I had in a bag and took off, driving at least 90mph down the highway to get to the Baptist Medical Center in Birmingham. The next day, upon seeing and hearing the heartbeat machine that was hooked up to my best friend flat line, a sound and image I will never forget, my heart was broken. All my doubts about college and making it out on top reappeared. Suddenly all my praises about Oxford vanished as quickly as they appeared. There was nothing else to do, but keep praying.

I came back to school lost and confused. I couldn’t eat or sleep, much less focus on my classes. I thought there was no way I was going to make it to December. And then my roommate brought me to Chi Alpha. A Christian ministry on campus to whom I now owe everything to. A Christian ministry on campus that changed my life. A Christian ministry on campus that I couldn’t live without. Chi Alpha helped me in ways I could have never imagined. I got back on track with school. I became able to cope with the hole in my family. I was going to be able to pass fall semester with flying colors. God had answered my prayers yet again.

We now approach the end of the semester. Finals week is upon us and I am ready. I will end this semester with a 4.0 and I know my grandmother would be so proud. I have a new home, and new friends, an amazing support system in Atlanta, and nothing but joy in my heart. So what’s the key to college? Just keep praying.

 

**EDHE final paper**

Ironic, Isn’t It?

Death provides an interesting insight into a new perspective of life. On one hand, you are devastated and crushed by the loss of a loved one, but on the other it is somewhat of a relief to know that one day the pain and suffering will end.  Burying my grandmother today was a whirlwind of emotions. I want so badly to be angry and upset with God, but scripture and Christian music are the only things keeping me sane as of now. Ironic, isn’t it? My grandmother had a disease in which the veins in her legs were unable to pump the blood back up to her heart which resulted in blood pooling in her legs. This led to sores that eventually became infectious. The medicine she took for the sores made her extremely sick, and the medicine she took for the sickness made her kidney fail, and the medicine she took for her kidney made her lungs close up, and the cycle continued. Ever think medicine has advanced too much for our own good? Ironic, isn’t it? A long, sad story short: my grandmother was on life support and given only a few hours to live, but her heart was so strong she made it 36 hours before we saw her heart rate hit zero. My dad says she knew what she was doing, and simply did not want to pick between my sister (a UA grad) and me this weekend during the Ole Miss – Alabama game. My dad always knows the right things to say. It’s hard to think about her not being there for my college graduation or my wedding or anything like that, but I know it’s selfish for those to be the things on my mind. Between the tears today at the graveside service, I saw my grandfather’s tombstone for the first time in 10 years. I think it is kind of morbid to visit cemeteries, and thus never went to visit him after his burial in 2006. As heart wrenching as it was to see Granny in a box, there was also a sense of peace that rushed over me when I got to see my grandparents side by side again. Ironic, isn’t it? I am positive I could use a 15 letter word to describe how I am feeling, but nothing seems as appropriate as sad. Just plain sad. When you die, you don’t get to take anything with you. So everything tangible she worked for for the past 71 years disappears. However, even though she is gone, I know she has touched my heart in a way that will last forever and thus makes her immortal. So maybe the only point of living is to impact the lives of others before you die. Ironic, isn’t it?