Meg Dowell Writes

I’m pretty sure it happens to all of us high school seniors out there (I still sort of am one of them, in a way). We’re filling out all these applications, writing all these essays, and making all these choices. But all of it still seems unreal. What goal are we working toward? What’s with all thse Class of 2014 sweatshirts and $200 deposits? Well, the answer is simple: college. And the problem? We’re all in denial.

I’ve wanted to go to Olivet since I was about four, and could understand the general idea of what college was. My mom had been a professor there for a long time—a few years before I was born, maybe even before she married my dad. (I’m not completely sure of the whole timeline. Point: she’d been there for awhile. Not to say she’s old. I’m just going to move on now.) She used to bring me along to her classes when I wasn’t at my babysitter. I remember several times in particular when she brought me along with her to her office and let me play with the fake model food she used for classes and demonstrations, etc. That was my favorite part.

I don’t remember when exactly I decided that’s where I wanted to go. She quit working there shortly after my brother was born and never went back. I always thought it would be cool if she did (and it would sure cost a lot less to send me there), but she’s got too many other things to occupy her time (i.e., this, and being a mom, and the usual). But somehow, I never lost the connection I’d developed to the school itself, or the idea that I could go there someday, too.

My cousins were the first to follow the tradition our family has sort of developed (since plenty of them went to and graduated from there long before our time) and started there when I was about nine. We went to Homecoming every year to watch Brad and Brandon play basketball. We got to see virtually EVERYONE from my mom’s side of the family at those games. I loved going back to Olivet every year. All the purple and gold excited me in a way that I could never explain. I wanted that school to be mine.

After my cousins graduated, we went to Olivet a lot less. After the last Homecoming basketball game we ever went to, maybe in the seventh or eighth grade, I didn’t go back for a very long time, though the idea was planted in my mind for a long time afterward.

And then, my junior year, our youth worship band planned a trip to go down to Olivet to play a two-hour set at a 24-hour prayer vigil they were having in one of the chapels. It was the most fun I’d had in a long time. I ate dinner/breakfast at three o’clock in the morning, sang my heart out to Jesus, and made a decision that set my heart in a place of peace for a very long time.

I’d been tossing around the idea of going someplace other than Olivet—nowhere specific, really; just somewhere else. I’d had the idea of Olivet in my head for so long that it was starting to seem old and repeatative to me. I never felt as if it was being forced on me—my parents would never make me go to a college I didn’t want to go to. At the same time, I knew they wanted me to. But I wasn’t sure what I wanted.

I remember walking through the ice and snow at nine o’clock at night, heading for the chapel we’d be playing in. Jackson and I had been talking about college on the way there (he was still deciding between ONU and Loyola—he chose where God led him to go, as he should have), and my mind had been on the subject ever since. But as we were walking, I looked around. And I realized that, despite the darkness and cold and my lack of mittens, I felt safe and warm somehow; I felt right.

Olivet is sure to remind you on a regular basis these five glorious words: “We believe. You belong here.” At that moment, walking through campus, I heard God whispering to me, “You belong here.” And the whole night that I was there, I kept praying, silently and in whispers. Was this where I was meant to be when the time came? Was I wrong to think I would fit in anywhere else?

I chose Olivet. I filled out an application in September and got my acceptance letter two months following. But I kind of just set it aside and said, “Cool. I’m going to Olivet.” The idea of me going there had been embedded in my brain so long ago that I didn’t even know I was in denial. I’m filling out scholarships now, because I was in denial about my future through every report card I received in high school. I have a sweatshirt, gloves, mugs, pens; everything. I just got my letter about first Orientation on the eleventh of June.

I’m still in denial. When I come out of it, I’ll let you know.

Love&hugs, Meg♥