I wasn't buying that.
"Where's the truth in it?" I said. "So what if I have a degree, does that make me a better man?"
"It's just something to you have to do if you want to get anywhere in America," mom said.
That argument didn't do much for a guy who writes emails from a hut in Africa.
That argument didn't do much for a guy who writes emails from a hut in Africa.
"I don't care what America thinks of me. I only care what God thinks of me. And I don't see where He requires a degree."
"Billy, please."
I can push my mom to the edge sometimes, but dang if she doesn't hang on and eventually win me over. Like a good son stumbling into church on Mother's Day, I came back from Africa and followed the religion of University. I read the text books, I followed the major rules, I went to class about as often as I went to church, and it seemed to be enough.
I can push my mom to the edge sometimes, but dang if she doesn't hang on and eventually win me over. Like a good son stumbling into church on Mother's Day, I came back from Africa and followed the religion of University. I read the text books, I followed the major rules, I went to class about as often as I went to church, and it seemed to be enough.
On May 9th, 2010 I sat in the back of the Appalachian State Convocation Center waiting for my name to be called. It was the second Sunday in May. There were moms, dads, families, and friends all cheering us on. An uncontrollable energy exploded from beneath our bachelor's caps. I watched the celebration with a peaceful smile. Not because I now had a respectable degree. I still think a certificate of any kind is secondary to what is most important in life. I smiled not because my mom was proud of me on this Mother's Day. I knew she would've been regardless. I smiled because in those last few days of class I found truth in the college experience.
College was easy or hard. College was beneficial or a waste of time. College was valuable knowledge or useless information. College was dead religion or alive and renewing. College was all shallow and no truth or the deepest I have ever ventured. College existed as good and bad and then allowed me to choose how to experience each moment. Maybe that's what the almighty "They" had in mind when they told me to take those "irrelevant" classes. Maybe they knew it's more about how I approach a thing rather than the thing itself. Is college necessary? Some would say no; some would say yes. I say necessity is none of my concern. I found it good when I searched for good. I was blessed to have it in my life. College exists, just as church, just as sports, just as life, just as death. I can only choose the degree of it's impact. One thing is for sure, being in college was a great excuse for me to spend an entire day in a coffee shop thinking about all of this.
College was easy or hard. College was beneficial or a waste of time. College was valuable knowledge or useless information. College was dead religion or alive and renewing. College was all shallow and no truth or the deepest I have ever ventured. College existed as good and bad and then allowed me to choose how to experience each moment. Maybe that's what the almighty "They" had in mind when they told me to take those "irrelevant" classes. Maybe they knew it's more about how I approach a thing rather than the thing itself. Is college necessary? Some would say no; some would say yes. I say necessity is none of my concern. I found it good when I searched for good. I was blessed to have it in my life. College exists, just as church, just as sports, just as life, just as death. I can only choose the degree of it's impact. One thing is for sure, being in college was a great excuse for me to spend an entire day in a coffee shop thinking about all of this.
I am again in Africa writing emails from a hut. I look at the Dinka man here in Sudan with tribal scars on his forehead and I wonder, in the grand scheme of things was that necessary? Did that make him a real man? In the grand scheme of things was the D- I made in Biology really necessary for my life. I imagine the Dinka man and I would still be alive and well had we not gone through our ceremonial rituals. But for some reason, painful as they were, we did. He has scars on his skin; I have a degree on my wall. And here we are together in Sudan, alive and well. Our moms are proud of us. The world thinks we are men. We are glad we pushed through. But we both know it is not the marks we bear that make us men. It was our response to the moment when the man slid his blade into our scalps.
Thank you mom, family, Mrs Sherrill, Jay Sutton, Jane Graham, Dawn Ward, Coach Moore, and all of you who kept me searching for meaning.
And to Dr. McCaesar, consider it rendered with untold appreciation.
GOD is Greater
billy riddle jr
And to Dr. McCaesar, consider it rendered with untold appreciation.
GOD is Greater
billy riddle jr
1 comment:
Loved it! And yes, mom does have an incredible ability to stick with something until the end. I seem to have a brother with similiar stubborness!! Love you!
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