It was nothing short of a miracle.
You see, I have had so many dreams in the past couple of years, and they keep having to die. Like goldfish.
It’s written all over in my book and past blog entries, maybe out in the open, perhaps between the lines. I’m getting better! Will my dreams come true? Oh. Sick again. Goodbye beautiful dreams. Again and again, the never-ending cycle.
Bible School was one of those dreams.
It was EBI that I wanted to go to first. But then I began to consider SMBI, and after much prayer and pro-con lists and interviews with SMBI alumni I decided that was the place for me.
Second term 2009 had two classes I wanted to take. It was perfect.
Then, of course, dream-giving-up day came and I gave second term 2009 back to God. Totally and completely gave it up. After that, any discussion of Bible School with anyone had me saying, “Perhaps I’ll go to SMBI the 2010-2011 year.” I didn’t even consider 2009-2010. That dream had died.
One day I sat all alone in my living room. Life was so complicated. I didn’t want to leave Colorado, but I had no job. Where was I to end up?
All of the sudden a wonderful idea for a novel set at a Mennonite Bible School popped into my head. “Man,” I thought, “It’s too bad I won’t be able to go to Bible School for at least another year. But when I do I’m going to write down everything. I’m gonna carry a notebook around with me even if they all think it’s weird.”
Still no job. I packed up my stuff, upset at the unrest I felt about moving back to Oregon. Upset that option A wasn’t working out, I didn’t feel right about option B, and there was no option C.
Let it die, Emily. You have to let Colorado die.
The epic Friday arrived. The Friday I had been dreading. The Friday when my Dad would arrive to help me pack up my stuff and move me back to Oregon. I logged onto Facebook. This is what I saw:
Benji Mast is leaving bright and early tomorrow morning for SMBI
All of the sudden it occurred to me that second term 2009 was starting in a few days. Not only that, but it would have worked perfectly. I needed an option C, because both Oregon and Colorado were full of closed doors. I was feeling well enough to swing Annie, perhaps I was finally to the place where I could do SMBI. It would have been perfect.
I ranted to my diary about not signing up when I had the chance. And at the end I wrote, “Of course I can’t deny that God Himself led me down a different path. Yet still… And I am satisfied.”
A couple hours later my Dad arrived. When I briefly mentioned how perfect it would have been to go second term 2009 after all he said, “why don’t we call them tomorrow and see if they have any openings?”
Two days later I was at SMBI, notebook in hand.
Back in the sick days there were always dreams and fairytales. Sometimes a train might stop in the middle of the night, and if I climbed aboard it might take me to a party in the woods where I sat on huge white toadstools with many fascinating people. Sometimes I might go to a Bible School and have fun and wear a pink hat. They were wonderful to imagine and never true. If one of those fancies could be true it would be the greatest of miracles.
The greatest of miracles happened to me. But it was even bigger than the wildest of my fantasies. Every moment there was something, or someone. A conversation. A class. A smile. A tear. A cough. I know, because I wrote it all down.
Thursday night we all dressed in fancy clothes and knew that it was over. I was happier than I knew it was possible to be. My mouth hurt from smiling. My feet ached to dance. I wanted to shout to the mountaintops. I wanted to dissolve in tears of joy.
The greatest of miracles just happened to me, and the name of that miracle was SMBI.