college decision

Yesterday I had the privilege of speaking in Dr. Wilton Bunch's ethics class at Samford University. This is the fifth straight semester that he has extended an invitation to me to talk about restorative justice - specifically about the creation of The Next Door - but the first time that I have spoken to an undergraduate class. I told the students that it was ironic that I had ended up attending Beeson Divinity School at Samford in 2000, because eighteen years earlier as a high school senior, I faced a choice between attending Samford and the University of Tennessee.

During the fall of my senior year, I made a trip to Birmingham with two objectives: to attend a Barry Manilow concert (yes, I was and am a Manilow fan) and to visit Samford. I had arranged to spend the night on campus with my friend, Jan, who was a freshman. Jan and I had attended Franklin High School together, and we were both active members of our church's youth group - playing in the youth handbell choir, singing in the youth choir and girls' ensemble, and participating in a discipleship group. After the concert - which featured Samford's A Cappella Choir on Manilow's rendition of "One Voice" - as Jan and I drove back to campus, she suddenly panicked. "I don't have a pass!" she moaned.

Until that moment, I had not realized that Samford actually locked its students up on campus at night. If you intended to be out after the gates were locked, you had to have a pass signed in advance by your dorm parent to present to the guard at the gate in order to be allowed back on campus. Jan pulled over, rifled through her glove compartment, and discovered an old pass. After forging a new date, we proceeded down Lakeshore Drive to campus. We held our breath as the guard used a flashlight to inspect the pass, then grabbed a phone and made a quick call. After he opened the gate and waved us on, I asked Jan who he had been calling. She explained that not only were the students locked on campus at night, but the girls were also locked in their dorms. The guard had called Jan's dorm mother, alerting her to our arrival so she could unlock the door for us. 

"Wait!" I exclaimed. "Are you telling me that guys are allowed to roam free on campus at night while the girls are locked in their dorms?" Jan nodded. I was appalled. I believe it was at that moment that the balance tipped and I was destined to be a Tennessee Volunteer. This blatant gender inequality, paired with an already restrictive environment, was not what I was looking for in my undergraduate experience. 

I'm glad that God had a plan for me to eventually be both a Vol and a Bulldog, and perhaps one day I will add a third university to my education resume.

on a hallowed hill in Tennessee

On a Hallowed hill in Tennessee,
Like Beacon shining bright,
The stately walls of old U.T.
Rise glorious to the sight.
So here's to you old Tennessee, 
Our Alma Mater true.
We pledge in love and harmony
Our loyalty to you.

If you have ever been to a football game at Neyland Stadium on the campus of the University of Tennessee at Knoxville, you have heard these words sung during the Pride of the Southland Band's halftime show. I was a proud alumna yesterday when my family spent most of the day on campus for the UT Scholars Invitational. My son didn't need another campus visit to help him decide where to go to college (since he apparently made that decision about the time he started kindergarten), but we made the trip to learn more about the honors programs offered at UT. As a 1985 graduate of UT's College Scholars program, I was personally pleased to discover how the honors program has grown through the years, and I am confident that Chaney is going to receive an outstanding education at my alma mater.

During a browse session when we were encouraged to visit with representatives of various campus programs, we stopped at the booth hosted by the Office of Student Orientation and Leadership Development. The young woman who greeted us was extremely excited to discover that Paul and I were both former Student Orientation Assistants (SOAs). I served as an SOA during both my summers at UT, and Paul and I began dating when we served together as SOAs during the summer of 1984. We had actually interacted briefly during the previous summer when we both took a U.S. History course that required us to watch videos on small monitors in the library. We met when we both were waiting in the library to watch a documentary about Justice Hugo Black. During that first encounter, Paul was wondering why I was wearing purple overalls, and I was wondering where in the world Philadelphia, Tennessee, was. (For the record, Paul's hometown is located 40 miles southwest of Knoxville between Loudon and Sweetwater.)

I never dreamed as I roamed the campus of the University of Tennessee for three happy years that one day I would have a son who would follow in my footsteps. But by this time next fall, he will be the one roaming, and I couldn't be happier for him.

find the good and praise it

"What we see usually depends on what we look for." That is the message that is posted on the sign in front of the Presbyterian church around the corner from my house. I read the sign with its freshly posted message as I was driving home from my morning walk at Radnor Lake, and for the second time in an hour my thoughts turned to Alex Haley.

I was fortunate to have Alex Haley as my commencement speaker when I graduated from the University of Tennessee at Knoxville in the spring of 1985, and I was doubly blessed when I was able to eat lunch with him after the graduation ceremony. Because my father had been serving as an ex-officio trustee for the university, we were among a select group of people who were invited to attend a luncheon at which Mr. Haley was the guest of honor. (As I recall, university officials informed Mr. Haley that they were giving him a pair of geese in appreciation for his commencement address. Fortunately, they did not actually present him with the geese at the luncheon.) My father and I were assigned to sit at the same table as Mr. Haley. I would like to be able to pass on some wise words that this consummate storyteller imparted during that luncheon, but I don't remember him saying much at all. That's because my father spent most of the meal telling Mr. Haley stories. 

I thought about Alex Haley the first time this morning as I was walking down Otter Creek Road along the shore of Radnor Lake and reflecting on Philippians 4:8 - "Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things." Because I am a detail-oriented person, I tend to focus on what's wrong in a given situation. I want to things to be done right, and done right the first time. If a mistake is made, I want it to be fixed without delay. This preoccupation with finding what's wrong to make things right means I tend to dwell on the negatives, so I have to discipline myself to look for the positives - the things that are true, and noble and right. 

Which leads me to Alex Haley. Mr. Haley's personal motto was "find the good and praise it." Wise advice. Biblical advice. Convicting advice.