Nostalgia

Funny word: nostalgia. As I was returning from my recent trip to Bryan/College Station, Texas, I got to thinking about the word. My medical mind recognized "-algia" as the root word for pain, and suddenly I understood.

Texas A&M University in College Station, Texas is where Jon and I spent undoubtedly the best years of our young lives. This particular trip was to attend a Medical School reunion. For those unfamiliar, Texas A&M is unique in its ability to engender a sense of tradition, community, family, and lifelong loyalty. For example, former students used to wear their class rings on the ring finger of their left hand, since their spouse was the only one closer to their heart than their school. It is tradition that departed Aggies have their names read aloud in memorium at the annual Aggie Muster ceremony. Let me clarify, I am no 'Texas-Ex'. I am and always will identify myself as a Texas Aggie; I am simply a Former Student. But what a strange thing to do: to return to the locale of some of the most meaningful years of your life.

I arrived in College Station at the ripe age of 17, and it was at A&M where I learned who I really was as a person, and began to blaze a path of my own, apart from my parents. It was at A&M that my life's pursuit to serve as a rehabilitation provider was nurtured. Texas A&M taught me academics, but also taught me to be a good neighbor, citizen, benefactor, and made me part of something bigger than myself. More importantly, it was the location of my first encounter with God (at Research Park, of all places). My fellow students at A&M witnessed my decision to become a follower of Christ. It was at A&M that I met my husband Jon, along with some of the most influential people in my life. We celebrated our engagement with a trip to the Memorial Student Center and took pictures in the Flag Room. Along the columns of A&M's Administration Building is where my bridal photos were taken. We were married at the A&M Church of Christ, which will hold a precious place in my heart until I depart this earth. The Aggies For Christ planted the seed of evangelism in my heart, and I learned the pure joy of service with fellow Aggies at my side, whether at Tuesday campus devotional at the foot of the Academic Building, at Cherokee Home for Children, singing a capella atop Petit Jean in Morrillton, in a cold tent in the Grand Tetons, or at Ramkhamhaeng University in Bangkok, Thailand. To this day, I have the AFC to thank for giving me a heart for foreign missions, and for giving me a warm reunion to look forward to. We in the AFC joke that we will someday meet our fellow Aggies For Christ at "the 12th Gate." The six years I spend in Aggieland were rich. We were sure poor, but we were rich in relationships, rich in meaning, and rich in purpose.

Those riches have not diminished over the last 15 years. I, however, cannot return to that treasure chest of memories. The A&M Church of Christ has changed buildings. A new generation has stepped into my footprints. Some faces remain, but few of them recognize mine. Even College Station has morphed into a new city, one that I hardly recognized as I struggled to navigate my way past places I once called home. Campus is distinctly different, but so am I.

The reunion I had last weekend was not with my long-lost classmate acquaintances, but a reunion with the person I once was, recognizing the many steps I've taken since then. Following my departure from A&M, I weathered a lonely couple of years in my medical school clinicals, and four grueling years of residency which marked the spiritual low of my life. At Jon's side, we've stood the test of nearly 13 years of marriage, and learned a lot of lessons along the way. We've seen the birth of three children, and the death of one. We've seen friendships, faith, and family bloom here in Scottsbluff, which has strangely and unexpectedly become home for us. What a blessing it was for my worlds to collide recently, with my Aggie friends and my Scottsbluff friends meeting together in Vegas for Jon's 40th birthday.

I have no idea what the next 15 or 30 years will bring, but I can only press forward. Meanwhile, the sense of nostalgia hangs over me like a melancholy ache. I sometimes wonder if there will be 'rooms' in Heaven where we can revisit those times of joyous past. Some part of me hopes "The 12th Gate" is real, and there will be familiar faces there to greet me. I'll stand again atop that crosswalk and breathe in the strange mix of sidewalk food vendors, heat, sweat, and fumes that reminds me of Thailand. We'll summit peaks and run marathons together, laughing and singing along the way, without tiring. We'll all hike Petit Jean and sing that four-part a capella version of "May the Lord Bless You and Keep You" with the Sevenfold Amen that always makes me cry. And there will be great fellowship.

1 THESSALONIANS 4:13-18

13 Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest, who have no hope. 14 We believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 15 According to the Lord's word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. 18 Therefore encourage one another with these words.