I’ve learned a big lesson about seminary education thus far these past few days. Even though I’m out of Kentucky Mayberry, away from the classrooms, the lectures, the exegesis papers, there is still opportunity for learning what it means to be a minister and serve others in the name of our Lord. This became clear to me this weekend while in West Virginia for a funeral.
Now, before I write the story let me add this disclaimer that I have always known how valuable practical education has been to me. In my undergrad at West Virginia University, I learned more about being a writer from actually writing for a newspaper than I did in class. Doing has always been more productive for me than being told how to do something. I guess I’m a trial and error person.
That being said, let me now take you to the story of Saturday. Now to get to the funeral, I have to tell you this story. My family has a lot of love and care for me, as any family would for their children. However, I, on the other hand, have a history of doing idiotic things at the wrong time.
I give you Evidence A - The Cell Phone Caper. On Friday, I purchased a new cell phone to replace my Star Trek looking device that had served its purpose and needed to be sent into retirement. This, I thought, would be a simple process of buying a phone, waiting for activation, and proceed to use the new phone. I was wrong. Turns out, it took more than 24 hours to get the phone activated. In the meantime, I had no cell phone service and since cell phones are my only line of communication, the family had no way to get in touch with me.
Now, my plans on Friday was to go to work, come home and pack. I had talked to my grandfather and he assumed by going “home” I meant West Virginia, when in fact I meant my home in Kentucky. This is the crutch of what will later become “How Shannon Gave the Family a Heart Attack.” When I didn’t come home Friday, the family began to call me. When I didn’t answer the phone, they began to worry. Saturday morning and still no word, they began to get anxious. Anxiety got to the point where my brother was going to drive to Kentucky, and my mom … called the Wilmore Police Department.
All this time, I’m in the house getting ready to drive to West Virginia, frustrated that my cell phone - my new cell phone - was about as useful as a used diaper. Knowing my family was probably worried - though I didn’t know how much - I asked my roommate Saturday to call and let them know I’m on my way. To the cries of “Oh thank God,” I told my family I’m on my way. Only to hear a knock at the door. The Police arrived to check on me.
At least I know my family cares.
But then the funeral. Read the rest of this entry »
