One of the more frustrating things about grad school was the frequent feeling that it was keeping me from doing more to help others. Like, for the most part, being a student benefits me with knowledge, which, I guess in the long run can be used to help others. But I’m a hands-on type, and usually that’s a little too much connect-the-dots for me.
Especially in a divided and fear-driven world, I’ve been craving a more permanent community I could pour into, more resources to offer others, and channeling discontentment with the status quo into action.
I got small tastes of it over this term, though, and for that I’m grateful.
I got to teach a class on Contemporary Africa, the exact same class I taught a year ago. Except this time I got more chances to give lectures, and I feel at home in that setting. I got to talk about Masculinity in South Africa, got to help students process the day after the election, got to share stories about the helpers I’ve met.
So much of life feels like waiting, but I don’t think God wastes time. Even though my impatience for being done with grad school grew week by week, so did my appreciation for the time being.


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