So this blog post is not thought out. It's just rapid fire, from the hip shots across the bow at 12:49 a.m. that have not even been unscrambled from the mental queue that is my brain, struggling to assimilate a confluence of mental stimulation that has moved me speedingly past the saturation point previously experienced while living a balanced life.
In other words, law school is a part of my life. Instead of dominating my life. The way school used to. When i was in college. Or high school. Or junior high and could do math problems in my head before the teacher even finished the question. Yes, i was a space alien savant. Still am, i hope. We'll find out in about 45 days. Or, more correctly: over the span of the next 3 or so fortnights. Well, really over the span of the next 6 months....
That has been the biggest gift anyone's given me. [precursor...i have this friend who is amazingly an advocate of ardent astute application of academics....his blog character name is Walter Mitty the CIA Secret Agent who needs a Girl who's a Comedianne...or, Agent Mitty for short].
Agent Mitty: So, you need to study more.
Me: I know. I am trying...my focus is just, off. [he knows about my desire for a relationship being more important to me than editor of law review...blah blah on all that]
Agent Mitty: *legal mumbo jumbo
Me: *legal mumbo jumbo
Agent Mitty: Wait...*light bulb goes off in his head*...are you just overcomplicating this reasoning process [regarding legal mumbo jumbo]?
Me: *processes, whir whir whir...yes, Agent Mitty, i think you're right.
Me: *light bulb slowly turning on....whoa. Dude. Wow. You are right.
[later in the conversation]
Agent Mitty: Wait...you were a math prodigy?!?!?
Me: Um, yes. Operative word being "was"
Agent Mitty: [completely not hearing any of my words beyond 'yes'] YOU COULD BE NUMBER ONE IN LAW SCHOOL!!!!??!??!
Me: Are you serious????
Agent Mitty: YES.
Me: *look of confusion
And then today it finally clicked. Lawyerese is engineering. With words. It's math. With phrases and rules and concepts. It's a flow chart that an English professor would heart.
If i even crack the top 10% of my class at any point, it'll be in large part thanks to good old Agent Mitty. I'm serious. You see, honest law students are about as common as honest politicians or selfless celebrities these days.
But Agent Mitty didn't care. He spoke his heart, from his heart...his mind's honest thoughts. Not thinking of himself. He was thinking of another's potential.
Potential, by the way, is a scary word. One thing i refuse to be, and Lord may you strip me of everything in the way of worldly gain if i do this, is someone who brags about results. That's another story, but my pride has enough ammo of it's own...it does not need the titles some wear on their lapel, flippantly finding an abyss where they thought meaning would be, vainly assuming the adoration of their peers--who secretly harbor disrespect, resentment, and guarded animosity [and clandestine rebuke].
If i become that, dear Lord, strike me down in my pride. Forget the world, please protect my soul, dear Father.
And so far He's been protecting my life. This is what He keeps saying: if i graduate with a life secure in Him, and a life lived according to His plan, obedient, and i'm number ___ whatever, fill in the blank, He will be pleased. So long as i obey and am devoted. If, however, i graduate at the 'top of the class' but flunk life...epic fail. To quote a retreat speaker i heard recently: 'if you miss your calling your life will suck'. A bit crude, but his point is well made. In law school you can miss the forest for the trees if you're, well, if you're the average student.
He's teaching me a lot. Like, how to sleep. 8 hours/night. Sometimes 9. Rarely 6, and never less than that. No more coffee. Lots more prayer. Not 'cover my rear' prayers. Prayers for the people i can see drowning every day. Law school is a petri dish. Or, sadly, like what too many girls wear these days....you can see everything, and it's often very disturbing.
Law school is an environment where everything is magnified, everyone knows everyone's business...think small town beauty shop or hardware store with excessively boring people-- yes, that much gossip.
Ah yes...the big 17. A conference speaker mentioend the 'big 7' as being ages 18-25, where all the big decisions get made. Including marriage. Yep...that's the 'big 17' for me, i thought. got to at least go to age 35 to give me a running start. I figure, if i've had one date past the second date in 5 years, i need at least 7 years from now to give myself a deadline. And then i realize...a deadline is what i've been giving myself.
*blinks...blinks....[*slaps forehead]. Ok, more on this topic later.
I am, in truth, like a salmon. It's like i've been swimming upstream from nomadic wandering in jobs that did not challenge me to a blissful environment of skiing, Christian community, and revitalization to now, the place where God has restored my calling, my very soul....my life path. He has put me back in the stream. The right stream. I've been floundering around on the deck, flopping around like a fish [salmon] out of water [no wonder the ladies have been looking at me oddly :) ] until He placed me exactly where He wanted me to be...this entire time.
Why, dear Father, are you so patient with us? With me? Years too late...in some ways, a lifetime lived, too late, to what you had for me at least 3 years ago...?
No answer. Except love. And the page of a contracts book.
"manifestation of mutual assent" - basically, boring legal concept. However, somehow an envelope moved. I was praying. Like, for hours. This was not my doing. I was led into prayer. Despite my own depravity, obedience to that occured. Prayer happened. And by happened, i mean, i listened. God spoke. It kept coming and then words came. Poured out onto the page of my prayer pad. So, luckily, i didn't get in the way.
They came on the page. The pages went in an envelope. I was thinking...what the...?!???? What the heck is this? [God: 'it's the product of prayer. Of obedience' me: 'oh'] The envelope went into one legal book. The book went into my locker. The book stayed in my locker. I went to my car later that day. The same envelope, with the same pages, was in a book. In my car. a DIFFERENT book. A book that had been in my trunk all day.
Legally, my 'reasonable' reasoning tells me there are two options: either a) i had amnesia, b) someone played a practical joke on me, having either my locker combination and foreknowledge of the envelope being there and/or access to my locker partner and my car and....yea: option c) a small miracle occured.
When i opened the book, the top of the right page said "manifestation of mutual assent". As in, what is required for a contract. A contract between God and us. a contract between people. or any relationship. mutual assent.
That was/is the lesson for that day. For the year. For my life. Mutual assent. Not unilateral. Not selfish pride or vain conceit. Mutality. Predicated on a grace being poured out in divine power of which i have no participation other than participation. Gulp.
*paging Agent Mitty.....me: about that whole prodigy thing....that aside, you know anything about contributory participation? [yea...me neither...]
here's to finding out....
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment