• Your mom went to seminary

    I started writing this poem in my head a few weeks into taking classes. I imagined sharing a glimpse into the challenge that is seminary as a mother of big kids. I heard a lot of complaints about how hard it was to juggle it all, but I wondered how many of my classmates were fielding calls about sick kids and missed lunches in the middle of class, how many people were scribbling shopping lists into the margins of notes, practicing Greek paradigms over spaghetti sauce and after school homework.

    But, over the years, the poem morphed into more of an apology. I realized that all of my classmates had their own unique challenges, and also that it’s really only my kids whose mom went to seminary. No one can juggle forever, and as more and more things fell through the cracks, as the toll on my children became more and more evident, I started to really question if this whole seminary gig was worth it.

    There’s so much more that can be said, and maybe someday I’ll write more about how these years have grown and shaped us. But I decided to start with this poem and see what it had become—a letter to my children.

    Your Mom Went To Seminary

    Hey kids.
    Your mom went to seminary, and it means she didn’t go on field trips.
    It means car rides included Greek songs, long stretches of silence, and the In-n-Out drive thru. Again.
    Your mom went to seminary, and it means you didn’t go to soccer camp.
    And you heard far more often than you should have, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. Can you please say that again?”
    Your mom went to seminary, and there was Hebrew vocab at breakfast and cereal for dinner.
    Forgotten homework, lunches, and permission slips.
    Missed birthday parties and beach days.
    Your mom went to seminary, and it means there’s a lot that you missed.
    There’s a lot that she missed.

    Hey kids.
    Your mom went to seminary, because your dad is amazing.
    He believes that the church has a place for women who know their God and who know their own mind.
    He wants you to know that, too: 
    Your God. 
    Your own mind. 
    And that there’s a place in the church for you.
    Your mom went to seminary, because your dad knows that vocation is not a zero-sum game. 
    That a mom who goes to seminary is no less a mom who loves her children.
    That a woman who serves her church doesn’t have to do so at the expense of serving her family.
    Your mom went to seminary, because your dad is not threatened by strong women.
    In fact, he hopes to raise them.
    And he’s good with a little friendly competition.
    He knows that iron sharpens iron and so he pulls a seat up to the table and welcomes the challenge.
    Hey kids—there’s a seat at this table for you, too.

    Your mom went to seminary, and she’s not sorry.
    You have had a season of challenges and sacrifices, yes. But you have also had an incredible opportunity, for friendships and adventures and, most importantly, to see God’s faithfulness.
    This God did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all.
    This God upheld us and provided for us and was near to us these four years.
    I pray you’ll look back on this season and remember that this God will give you everything you need.

    Hey kids.
    Your mom went to seminary, and I’m thankful I got to do it with you.
    I’m so proud of the ways you’ve grown in this season—in strength and knowledge and resilience.
    That even as you’ve grieved your own sacrifices, you’ve learned and celebrated with your dad and me. 
    I can’t tell you that the Lord won’t call us to do more hard things as a family. 
    In fact, I can tell you that he probably will.
    But I can also tell you that he’s good and wise and faithful.
    And that, with him, you can do hard things.


    I got to share this poem, along with a few other reflections on my time in seminary, at our graduation reception. You can watch the video here: