Last week daughter #2 (Ev) and I traveled north to visit daughter #1 (Clare) who is studying at my alma mater this year. I’ve visited that current campus many times over the years, including childhood visits. I even knew the previous campus that was in center city Philadelphia, as my grandfather taught there for years, and my dad, too, when I was really little. This visit, though, was the first time in a long time that I’d been on campus while classes were in session.
There’s something surreal about visiting a place that you’ve known for years. Image memories keep superimposing themselves over reality. The great high-ceilinged room with tall windows that is now the campus coffee house was the outer part of the library for a long time, and before that, during my freshman year, it was the student center. In the corner that now has shelves of confections I could still see the old piano where friends and I stood around belting out obscure old hymns we found in an ancient hymnbook. I still remember our glee at finding a hymn called, “God of concrete, God of steel” (the existence of which is even more fantastic since I married a civil engineer). I remembered the conversations upon conversations we had in that room where current students now chat—I doubt our discussions about life and God were so very different from the ones the students have now. I sat and drank coffee right about where I’d met with a study group as we dug through our philosophy class notes and hoped we grasped an iota of what our prof would test us on—the prof so many feared, but who I called “Aunt Mae” because she had known my family since she had been a teenager.
The library next to the coffee house was built during my sophomore year, and while it recently got a facelift, it still lends the same comfort of books upon books that called to me now as much as they did back when I had to dig through them for research. Walking down the stairway from the second floor I looked out on the same view I remembered of the chapel and the university pond beyond. I remembered writing a haiku about the geese that littered the fringe of the pond and the soccer fields with their turds and chased off any hapless student who didn’t come bearing gifts of bread. I remembered listening to challenging messages in that chapel, words from people who had served Christ throughout the world in joy and in pain.
My old school isn’t flush for cash, and the wear and tear shows in some spaces. My daughter Clare lives in the dorm that was brand new when I moved into it my freshman year. It’s due for a remodel, but because the school rents it out for music camps during the summer, there hasn’t been the time or space to fix it up. Clare loves it, though, and I love that she loves it. She’s had an incredible year of spiritual and educational growth, good friendships, and a chance to tap into family roots. I’ve seen over the years that the heart of the school is still solid, and it was encouraging to hear the enthusiasm for it in the voice of our campus tour guide, a third year student, and to hear from the head of the art program how they integrate a biblical worldview with learning the skills.
I’m so thankful that I got the chance to see Clare in her element, my old element. I’m thankful Evie got to spend the night and visit classes and meet Clare’s friends. It’s a little painful to be aware that I don’t know how often we’ll get to visit in the future. Clare’s plan all along has been to study there for a year before she shifts to an engineering program where Kraig teaches. Evie isn’t quite sure what she’s pursuing for college yet, and while she enjoyed her visit, she mostly realized she needs to visit more campuses than the one where her dad teaches and the one that holds her mother’s heart. We have to let her choose, too. My memories aren’t there for her, lending gilded edges to all of the old paths. She needs to find her own place to create memories. She needs to step out on the path that God unfolds before her.
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This is lovely, Loren. These college visits are just a few years out for us (and because both my husband and I attended college here in our hometown, fairly new to us both!) so I love hearing about your experience. The old memories superimposed upon the current buildings--what a beautiful and true image!
So much of this resonates from my most recent visits to LU. I see different things on the campus tour than my daughter... A large round swimming pool where I swam as a child, a playground in the woods with a giant R.G. tire-turned-sandbox. Friends' weddings in the little chapel. I think I had at least three different lives on that campus, and now she is starting her own - and mine doesn't come into play, but I don't know how to separate what I know from what she will know. Parenting requires holding securely and loosely at the same time. I'm assuming we'll get better with practice.