When people at work find out that I graduated from college, they usually ask me what I studied and whether I've had trouble finding a job since graduating. They speak with compassion, imagining that I, like many of their children and grandchildren, haven't been able to find a career-track job in my field. I appreciate their concern, I appreciate our shared conversation, I appreciate their questions.
And their questions have me thinking. As it becomes clearer and clearer everyday day that I might not ever cash in my degree for a comfortable paycheck, as I click "submit" on this month's student loans, I'm left to ask: "Was it worth it?". As I open the official transcript that I ordered and look down at that list of classes, I'm left to ask: "What exactly was accomplished here?".
And then I stumbled into old photos on Facebook last week. Picture after picture after picture. And then I remember: I was eighteen, and this was my education. This was not a financial investment. This was an education.
It was the making of a woman who can take responsibility for her community. The making of a woman who wants to take responsibility for her community. The making of a woman who has the strength to hope for a more beautiful future. The making of woman who will walk back into church. The making of this woman, the woman that I am today.