This morning, I was reflecting on how blessed I really am. There are certainly a lot of reasons for this, but specifically, I was thinking about the community that God has made me a part of.
Friday, my classmates and I completed Clinical Conferences, a set of capstone presentations for the WSU PT program. I have anticipated these since I was a senior in the Exercise Science undergrad program at WSU, waiting to start physical therapy school. What a road it would be. I wasn't sure initially how well I fit in with my classmates at first, but over the course of the next couple of years, I came to realize that they accepted me despite my pessimism and bad puns. We supported one another, encouraged each other, strove alongside one another, and battled to keep each other afloat. Now, we're all but done.
That night, my wife and I went to a barn dance fundraiser for ICT SOS. It was a good time with friends from church (despite a re-aggravation of an ankle injury, which is another story). However, the rain had been steadily falling all day, and at the dance's end, there were many vehicles stuck in the mud. Several of the men I have been blessed enough to be in community with over the last few years responded without much (if any) thought for self. Together, several of us pushed cars out to the gravel drive. Shoes, jeans, and the Crow family front yard were sacrificed in the process, but we successfully removed all but one car in relatively short order. I was truly humbled by the servant hearts of the other men I walk with. I was encouraged deeply. Several of them needed to be up early the next morning. A couple were still in work clothes, having come straight to the dance from other engagements. But people needed help, and those things were but trifling details. The literally put their shoulders to the loads of others and served selflessly. And I loved knowing God put these guys in my life.
The following morning, several of the same group of people and I set out to essentially reconstruct a beach as a work project to raise money for a mission trip that one of the girls in our college group is going on. It was a pretty decent expanse of sand, and there weren't many of us to carry out the work, but we were all willing and able. My glutes and obliques even now remind me of how much sand I shoveled, raked, and wheeled, but I didn't even do as much of the work as a couple others. In addition to the physical work, one of our guys that wasn't able to be there called to make sure the project was going alright. It was a small step, but it demonstrated that he cared. He would have been there if he could have. Again, I was humbled. I was encouraged. I am beyond thrilled to be a part of this community.
And to think, I almost missed out.
I never wanted to go to Wichita State. I wanted a change of scenery- literally. There isn't much in Kansas for outdoor activities. I wanted to try more scenic places, or, at least, different places. Yet, I knew I was called here. Sometimes the Spirit makes things clear without a shadow of a doubt. You just feel it. You can't put your finger on how you know, but you do. That was me. But I wanted to be Jonah. I wanted to run, literally and figuratively. I went to Butler on a track scholarship and wanted to use that to take me away from Wichita. I looked several places, but in short, it wasn't to be. Injuries and finances kept me in Wichita. And I was bitter about it. It took the combined efforts of two dear friends to bring me to Christian Challenge in the first place, and at first, I wanted nothing to do with the people there. I wanted to listen to the sermons and leave without engaging anyone there. But that soon changed. The investment there that I received from various men led to me deciding to try church there. I liked it. And I stuck with it. I started to walk a different path of faith. I was truly pursuing God wholeheartedly for the first time in my life.
Worth noting is that during this time, I met my now-wife. I thought she was cute. But I also thought she was too smart and refined for my taste and really thought I was barking up the wrong tree. And I also wasn't satisfied with Wichita, even considering.
I looked into other physical therapy schools. I had been impressed with Norman, Oklahoma when I had passed through for track meets in the past. So I looked at OU. Our director at Wichita State had actually done a fellowship in La Crosse, Wisconsin, so I looked into UW-La Crosse. As a Badger fan, I looked at the University of Wisconsin's main campus at Madison, which I knew was a very prestigious program. Lastly, having heard many good things about Utah from my dad, Outside magazine, and various friends on Facebook, I looked into the University of Utah's program as well. But the problem I ran into was that a single year at any of these programs would have cost me the same as a full year at WSU. So, again, I felt somewhat trapped at first, but then realized I could do clinical rotations nearly anywhere in the United States while at WSU. So, I pursued those options. I elected Minnesota and Boise as sites for internships. Well, most of you know that about halfway through my first year of PT school, I finally fell madly in love with the woman that is now my wife. We started dating. We got engaged. I decided I didn't want to be 18 hours away from her while planning a wedding, so I switched the Boise rotation to Grand Island, Nebraska, so I could help with wedding planning. In the end, both rotations made me more deeply appreciate the community I had in Wichita. People moved to Wichita specifically to go to River. That significance struck me became more and more pertinent as I floundered away from home. God wanted me at WSU. I didn't want to be here. But because of being here, I was blessed with quite the community of fellow believers at River. I was blessed with a family rather than mere classmates in our little program at WSU's PT department. NOTE: Little refers to the small number of people, but in no way does it refer to the power of this program. I feel our graduates could stack up against most programs in this nation, pound for pound.
It is one of those severe mercies C.S. Lewis speaks of, I suppose. I wasn't able to pursue what I thought I wanted. I did mourn those opportunities, to be sure. I wanted to run track for an NAIA powerhouse in Ohio. I wanted to be surrounded my mountains or at least forest as I learned joint mobilizations and neuromuscular facilitation techniques. But how much would those things matter in 20 years when I have kids that are almost grown? Not that much compared to the lessons on life and faith I learned right here in Wichita, attending Wichita State, and walking through life with the believers at River. I could have learned them in those places, too, but I really feel that the earthly distractions of those places would have conquered my heart. It's one of those things I feel.
My time in Wichita isn't done yet. I don't want to leave River. I want to give back to Wichita State's physical therapy program someday, maybe as a faculty member, maybe as a clinical instructor. Maybe some of both, at different life stages. I want to raise my kids alongside the friends I've made here, who have walked in faith right by my side for these last few years. Maybe God has other plans down the road, but for right now, I am to be faithful with this calling.
We were all made for community. We flounder without it. And I'm glad I learned it the hard way.
