Thursday, December 14, 2023

“I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”

Isaiah 43:19

On more than one occasion, I have told people that, in case you are wondering, you will have no problem knowing when I am going through my mid-life crisis. It will be easy to spot. You will see me driving around with a new black convertible Ford Mustang. I have also argued that the good news is that it appears that I have not, apparently, reached my midlife point (or at least not the “crisis” point) yet since said Mustang has not appeared on my driveway. Now that I am nearing the age of 60, that suggests I could live to be a very old age, indeed.

In reality, I have already experienced what many might call a mid-life crisis in or around the year 2010. I was about 46 years old at the time, and I was well into my time of service in Germantown, Wisconsin. During that year, we had one kid in college, another about to graduate from high school, another just starting high school, and another in the midst of her elementary experience. A lot was happening in our world. The old routines were starting to change, and life was getting a little more complex.

The place where I was serving had not provided any raises for years, and the financial challenges were starting to build. Older kids, it turns out, are more expensive than younger ones. Who would have guessed? While the option to look for a new call was always there, the thought of possibly moving our kids at these critical times in their lives did not seem wise in the big picture either. Balancing my personal and professional needs and desires with my family’s needs and desires was hard – perhaps even harder than I realized at the time. If crisis wasn’t the right word for it, perhaps confusion was. I knew I needed to do something different. I knew I wanted to do something different. I just didn’t know how to make that happen. And I started to feel a little stuck. It wasn’t a good feeling.

In the midst of this time of crisis, or confusion, or whatever you want to call it, God provided an answer to a prayer in a very unexpected way. A few weeks before the start of the fall semester in 2010, a need presented itself at Cardinal Stritch University (CSU) where my wife, Barb, was teaching full-time. A new section of a course called Interpersonal Communication was needed, and none of the then full-time or part-time faculty could fill the need. The usual adjuncts were also busy filling other classes or were not available. The chair of the department wasn’t sure what she was going to do because time was running out and no one was coming forward to help.

Barb mentioned that I had a Master’s degree and that a significant number of credit hours that I took for the degree happened to be in the realm of Interpersonal Communication. It turned out my degree and my experience matched the required qualifications, and I was allowed to teach the one class that fall. I was so excited. I was hoping that this was the new thing that I needed to help bring a little more money into the family budget and give me a new sense of purpose in my life and ministry. As it turned out, it was.

The first day was very nerve-wracking. I was filled with anxiety, and I wasn’t totally confident in my abilities. I loved teaching First Communion, Confirmation, and Adult Sunday School classes. I was very comfortable with those things. But this was different, or at least it felt different. These students were not part of my congregation. I did not know them. They did not know me. I was more than a little scared.

My first class was in CFA127 (Communication and Fine Arts Room #127). That room ended up being just the place that I needed. It was an incredible joy to be with those students, to help them learn more about this important discipline, and to grow in my own understanding of the subject. I became passionate about the class, and that increased passion helped me feel even more dedicated to my daily ministries and the people of my parish. The crisis had been turned into renewed energy for the divine journey. The confusion had been turned into clarity of purpose. I was back on track, and that felt very good.

Cardinal Stritch University announced on Monday, April 10, 2023, that it would be closing its doors after the class of 2023 graduated on May 21. The news was devastating for students, faculty, staff, and alumni alike. I miss CSU; and, in particular, I miss CFA127. But I treasure the memories of the space that helped me make it through my mid-life crisis and provide for me a sense of clarity and empowerment that has remained with me to this day. I thank God for that room, and I thank God for the people who graced it with their presence.