It was January of 2020. The house was quiet. The Good Doctor had taken the noisiest member to the beach for the long holiday weekend. I don't remember where the others were but I was alone. Did I mention that it was quiet? I was reading my Bible, praying, and spending time in silence, just listening. All of a sudden I heard that still, small voice of the Holy Spirit, "It's time to get your master's degree."
You said WHAT???????? You do remember that I just turned 50, right? And that 20 years ago I was just 6 credits from a master's? But I didn't finish because I knew I wanted to raise a family and the advice of the day was to not have a master's degree if you were going to stop teaching for a few years to raise a small family (and we all know what happened to "few" and "small")? And that none, I mean, none, of those credits are going to transfer to a program 20 years down the road?
"It's time."
Why do I even bother arguing?
The tears just coursed down my face as the internal struggle continued.
Did I mention, God, that I'm too old? Higher education has come a long way from the 90s. I'll never figure this out. And why?
But how many times has God made sense in what He's asked of me?
When the Good Doctor returned home, I broke the news to him. Of course he was immediately supportive (there went that excuse).
How could I have known what God was really asking of me?
I registered. I got my books. I bought my index cards and highlighters.
My first day of school was just 3 days away. I knew that with the kids in school, I would have plenty of time to complete the work for the first two classes I had registered for.
And then the Governor closed all schools due to the Coronavirus. Their first day home? My first day of school. Within the next week we went from a family of 5 with everyone but me gone each weekday to a family of 9 with 1 online professor, 1 working-from-home, and 7 in school from first grade to a master's student. WHAT WAS I THINKING?
In the next month, not only did I have to figure out the technology of online education, learn to manage textbook readings, discussion boards, research papers, and tests but... the refrigerator broke (and the replacement didn't come for a week), the dishwasher broke (first world problems, I know), the car broke down, there was no toilet paper and no flour (we're a baking family, ya'll, and the stress eating was a must!) to be had anywhere, the Good Doctor left for a week to drive to Florida to be with his mother and took the most-helpful-with-Victor child with him, a half written research paper was lost to cyber space, all the people in the house created great messes which I didn't have time to clean, the first grader who was supposed to be in school all day everyday now needed to be homeschooled by moi...
The same first grader who melts down every day, multiple times a day. The same first grader who argues with every single thing you say. The same first grader who calls us vile names and screams horrible things at us. The same first grader that I chose
not to homeschool for a reason...
Except that this wasn't even homeschooling. Homeschooling is where school is mandatory and home is the variable. This was schoolhoming - where home is mandatory and school is the variable.
I emailed the university; I need to quit. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I was supposed to have every day free to work. Now I had to beg and cajole half of the over-18 crowd to help watch Victor so I could study and read textbooks and write papers. Of course they weren't very interested in helping; they weren't supposed to be here, either. They would have preferred to be spending their semester on campus or in their own apartment, living free and independently where people waited on them hand and feet, not helping with dishes and meals and babysitting. They had their own studying, reading, writing, and working to do.
The stress was out to wazoo, people. I cried everyday. I was discouraged and probably depressed.
But then, out of the blue, a phone call from someone who works with me in orphan ministry. She used to be a foster parent. She didn't know what had been going on. She just gets it. And she probably felt that little nudge from God, "Someone needs to talk Cindy down from the cliff."
"I'm just calling to say that I'm praying for you." She kept me going...
And then a week later, another foster care ministry that I volunteer in called to say they were bringing us a meal that week and next, and again for a month. Yeah, I cried again. Happy tears this time. Someone saw. Someone cared. I kept going...
And now it's over. What did you do during the pandemic?
We didn't get a puppy. We already had one. We didn't get a new baby. We have enough of them. We did a home renovation project but that was more Christmas gift than covid related.
What did I do? I finally got a piece of paper that says I'm now qualified to do that which I have been doing. For some people and groups, unfortunately, that was necessary. Twenty five years ago I almost had a master's, was two courses away, but then people told me that if I was going to resign from teaching to raise a family and I then wanted to get back into teaching, a master's would make me too expensive. So I stopped. Little did I know. But here we are and God spoke. I listened. I could argue that he had terrible timing but I know better. He has perfect timing. He brings people into our lives and he takes people out. Now I know who my real community is. Things may look very different than they did in January of 2020, but God is still on the throne and He is still good.
