No cap, no gown, no ceremony.

Over the past few days I have attempted more than once to write this post. To announce to the world that I'm a drop out. To reflect on the ending of the past seventeen years of my life. To find closure; to make it seem real.


But I just haven't been able to find the words. It's not that I'm ashamed. I've been able to tell plenty of people that I'm not finishing my program. (More on why in a later post.) Many of them comment on how much I smile when I explain why I chose not to return. I feel lighter, less anxious, more alive. It's a good thing.


But how do you find closure to seventeen years of your life? For seventeen years of my life I have been a student. I have structured my life around August-May. I have had summers off. I have attended classes, done homework, taken tests. I have learned how to miss just enough class. I have learned about myself, about life, and about God.


I have gone from Kindergarten -- in Orland Park... where I almost always wore a white sweater and I met Joanna, who later became my roommate during my freshman year of college.


To Elementary School -- where I thought I was the best speller ever, but I never really picked up anything pertaining to geography.


And then to Junior High -- in Mundelein... where I thought boys and how popular I was really were the most important things.


And to High School -- when I realized what was important, devoted my life to Christ, and fell in love with the local church.


Then to College -- in my beloved Champaign-Urbana... where I learned more outside of the classroom than inside.


And to my year at Seminary -- in Deerfield... where I met my fiance and learned that I really do learn best outside of the classroom.


And now, I'm leaving the student life, the single life--even my Illinois life!


No cap, no gown, no ceremony. Just an ending.