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| Clearwater Christian College |
This month I got some sad news: my old college is
closing its doors. Clearwater Christian
College will close at the end of June.
Although college was several years ago for me, it’s
one of those unique times that gets filed away under the category of “becoming
who you are.” And the choices I made there, good or bad, began the DNA of who I
turned out to be.
Clearwater Christian College (CCC) is nestled on a
body of water at the end of a long causeway lined with tall palm trees. The
drive always feels like a classic Florida image, and out-of-state students took
the drive feeling that they were going to school in paradise. Although I love being a Floridian, I always
took the drive less with rose-colored glasses and more with the knowledge that
this place is hot. But during that first
drive, that first stretch over the causeway, in my parents’ minivan loaded with
all my stuff, I remember feeling like that drive was full of potential.
I’ve driven that causeway many times since. I live only minutes from the college, and a
day or so ago, as I came over that lovely bridge, I decided to drive through
the campus.
As I made my lap around the grounds, the first thing
I passed was the dining hall, Cathcart.
There are several white steps leading up to Cathcart, and it’s unusual
to see the steps not littered with backpacks, since students weren’t allowed to
bring them inside during meals. The idea
that those stairs will be empty now drove home the finality of the college’s
closing.
A little further on, I drove on past Rehearsal Hall. Everything I loved to do happened in that
place. Choir rehearsals, voice lessons,
play rehearsals, drama class, improv – the rest of the campus was just a school
compared to this small building. This
building felt like a playground.
Others I’m sure had different spots on campus that
felt like their home away from the room.
For the sports-minded I’m sure it was the gym next to Rehearsal Hall. For the literature majors, it was probably the
library. We all had our spot on campus
where we felt like we honed our craft, for lack of a less pretentious phrase.
I eventually went past the building that held most
of our classes and the smaller Chapel. They
stopped holding the campus-wide chapel services in that building after my
freshman year due to the size of the student body, but I always felt there was something
homier about chapel in that space.
Especially when we would sing Holy
Holy Holy, and the song leader would instruct
the basses alone to sing the first verse, then add the tenors for the next,
then altos, and then sopranos. The
song would build with every verse, and for one moment it felt like the whole
college was a choir.
As I drove around, I found memories around every
corner. There was the Café where I
worked for a few semesters making milkshakes, and the track where I attempted
to run and earn points for Coach Denny’s killer fitness class. I passed the dorms where I stayed up far too
late and forged friendships that stuck.
I remembered the challenges I met there and the people I met there. But I saw something else around every
corner. The memories that flooded
through me the most were the times the Lord met me there.
I remembered the things I worried about and prayed
about as I walked over the footbridges on campus. I thought about the things that kept me up at
night. I can remember praying, on the
way to the dining hall, about my brother-in-law, who was separated from my
sister and waiting for a visa. I
remember worrying about my future after picking up a note from the post office
that said I needed to schedule my graduation interview. I remember many a discussion about when and
if I would meet someone I could share my life with. And also the general feeling that the Lord would
ask things of me that were just too hard for me to handle.
Now, as I looked at the campus again, what I was
struck with was that so much of what I worried about then has been answered or
sorted out. I still have the feeling that the Lord asks things of me that are
too hard for me to handle on my own, but I’m starting to learn that’s the
point. I was never meant to handle them on my own.
I thought of the concerns I have now, the concerns
for my husband’s illness, for raising up our child to know the Lord, and whether
I can change the things in my life that seem to confine me. And I wondered if someday they will just be a
memory tied to a spot. That someday I
will drive down the street we live on now and again think of how the Lord met me
there and how great is His faithfulness.
The Lord walked that campus with me then and now.
As I was about to pull off the grounds I thought,
“Just say it.” It was surprisingly hard
but I said out loud, “Good-bye,” and I cried a little. I guess I always believed that college was
where I began to learn who I was, but really, more accurately, it was where God
began to teach me who He is. And He
teaches me still.
So, I said good-bye to the little school on the edge
of the bay at the end of that long causeway.
It really is a lovely drive. It
really is a lovely campus. It really was
a lovely school. He really is a lovely Savior.
Some things will never pass away.
