donuts, textiles and bad grades

In 1992 I began a program in interior design at UT.  I made it through two classes before quitting, which if I'm honest, was pretty much my modus operandi at the time.  I could name lots of reasons, but mainly depression and a lack of confidence in myself were to blame.

This past year I began listening to a NPR podcast, How I Built This, which interviews visionaries and entrepreneurs - some pretty famous and successful ones.  Great podcast among podcasts. The more I listened the more I realized two key things were at play in their success: 1) they believed in themselves and 2) they had the attitude of "why not me? why shouldn't I be the one to succeed at this?" Failure didn't phase them. They got back up. They pushed. They believed. As Louie Giglio has said, where the devil puts a period, God inserts a comma.

Well, a new comma has been inserted into the story of my life. After calling UT admissions and asking if I could get a second bachelor's degree in interior design, I was told no, you may not.  The School of Architecture does not admit anyone who already has 60 hours of coursework.  "But best wishes on your plans," I was cheerily told.

Texas State, you're up. I got admitted last week and am now setting up pre-meetings with my advisor (and a department chair if I have to), to hopefully get my core curriculum waived in lieu of my core at Concordia.  Their admissions department has been nothing but helpful, and that encourages me that I've made the right decision.

When I got my former college transcript in the mail, I couldn't believe how many D's and dropped classes I had. I don't know how I graduated. I partied pretty hard. And here is where I get on my soap box to parents of teenagers with mental health issues. Get them to counseling. They may or may not need medication, but they do need an awareness that they are depressed/anxious/suicidal... and there is help and tools to cope.  Alcohol, drugs and bad relationships only go so far for self-medication.  And, they bring with them huge consequences.

I got admitted to UT's screenwriting master's program in 1990 with those grades. Maybe they laughed at my transcript but liked my writing well enough to let me in. I know today that would not be the case. I took a semester of classes and dropped out. I was sexually harassed by a professor. I was mocked for my christianity. I just couldn't take it at age 23. I took a job as an admin somewhere and didn't try again until going back in 1992.

But today I say, "why not? why not me?" I believe in myself and so does Steve. And I will only meet more people who do believe in me, and who I can encourage as well. My "what if" has led me to my end goal of getting a master's in historic preservation and to follow wherever that road leads.  I would love to say in five years from now I have achieved that.

Currently, I am organizing my house, my budget and watching way too much HGTV and Hallmark movies.  I need a job, if only to get out of the house.  I have several possibilities, after turning down a full-time position I campaigned for at a local library.  Note - I won't be going to the Buda library anytime soon or contacting the city of Buda's HR department.

I'm hoping for a job at the Vera Bradley store at the nearby outlet mall, stocking quilted bags and helping elderly ladies with their birthday purchases. My prideful self would say this job is beneath a 50-year-old, sometimes intelligent, educated woman with over 15 years of work experience. But I believe in hard work and good companies, and at this point, a little physical exertion would be welcome.

I have prayed so much about this. My journal is full of deadlines and expectations and God would you just do this by this date? A lot of times he does. Sometimes he doesn't.  But me and Jesus are pretty tight. We have a crazy love. I totally know I will be in classes with Texas State sorority girls who party. I realize Melissa McCarthy is coming out with a movie about a mom going back to school. I won't be seeing it. My circle of influence is about to expand and I'm waiting for the tidal wave of joy that the spirit of the living God gives me. Not that my life is ever easy or perfect, but if you know how to fight for joy, then you are equipped for a lot.

I think often these days of my Grandmother Brown, her mental illness and her love of beautiful things. She was a bit adorably crazy, but by no means stupid. She gave my grandpa a lot to handle. As a teenager, she gave me a Christmas gift comprised of a pair of scissors and a sewing kit.  Never mind that my glamorous cousin Jenny got a $200 Scandinavian sweater. Maybe she recognized my creativity. I have very little of her things, but I do carry her love of donuts and textiles close.

If you made it through all of us, thanks for reading.  I hope someone is encouraged to follow their dreams.

Our God is with us, we will fear no evil.
Because You do impossible things.
More than I could ask, or even imagine.
You are more than enough.