Classes started this week at Valparaiso University, and we have a lively bunch of freshman. With 1060 new freshman and transfer students, the energy is tangible. Combine that with the solar eclipse on Monday and you get a zany start. Never before have new friends bonded through sharing glasses from Amazon or cardboard boxes with pinholes.

On Monday during the college welcome, we bolted from the Chapel at 1:15 to look at the sky – with protection, of course. Clusters of faculty, students and staff gathered to look up and ooh and aah at the passing of the moon over the sun. Strangers connected and exclaimed, “So cool!” “You gotta see this!” The shared experience will make the class of 2017 special.

I have 55 freshman in my two sections of Exploratory Studies, and this year, each class stood in a large circle and introduced themselves. On round one, they were asked to say their names and what they love to do. I started – I’m Nancy Scannell and I love to read to  my granddaughter Eileen. She is almost two and a half, and she is so so cute.

A new student to my left then turned to me and said, “This is Dean Scannell, and she likes to play with her granddaugther. My name is Sam, and I like to play guitar.” And so it went with each student introducing the neighbor to the right before introducing him or herself. Responses included swim, bike, run (a complete triathlete row), sing; play basketball, volleyball, baseball, football, lacrosse (we love our athletes); run, read, eat, savor Jolly Ranchers, apply make-up (yep), study space, and follow fantasy football.

More intriguing were Round Two’s responses to the question – “What do you do to help make the world a better place?” These students had no inhibitions about being real – “I help run a fund raiser for Diabetes research” and “I try to be a good friend to everyone” and “I take part in an annual Dance Marathon for Riley’s Children’s Hospital” and “I take care of my little brother” and “I listen” and “I love.”

After Tuesday’s classes, the freshman filed through a cheering line of administrators and faculty dressed in academic regalia as they entered the Chapel of the Resurrection for the Opening Convocation.  As I clapped and smiled, I searched for my new fifty-five faces and saw groups of three and four clustered together in the flow of fresh anticipation.

Yesterday after class, freshman Bryce approached me with a huge grin and an outstretched hand. As I fumbled with packing up my things, Bryce’s joy caught me off guard. He said, “I just want to thank you. In class on Tuesday, I knew no one. Not a single friend. Then you asked us to introduce ourselves with what we love to do, and I met Austen because he likes computers, too. And then we met two more friends.”

He was so happy that I almost cried. We forget. It’s rough to be new.

This is going to be a great semester. It always is.

A few years ago, I was asked to give the invocation at the Porter County Community Foundation’s Annual Impact Tea for the Women’s Fund of Porter County.  I searched scripture, Rumi,  and quotes from great leaders for inspiration that captures the essence of the group. I stumbled across this story credited to an unknown author:

The Wise Woman’s Stone

A wise woman who was traveling in the mountains found a precious stone in a stream. The next day she met another traveler who was hungry, and the wise woman opened her bag to share her food with him. The hungry traveler saw the precious stone in her bag and asked the woman to give it to him. She did so without hesitation. The traveler left, rejoicing in his good forture. He knew the stone was worth enough to give him security for the rest of his life. But a few days later he came back to return the stone to the wise woman.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I know how valuable the stone is, but I give it back in the hope that you can give me something even more precious. Please give me what you have within you that enabled you to give me something so precious. Please share with me what you have within you that enabled you to give me the stone.”

 On August 16, 1947, Francis Michael Neylon and Eileen Brigid Sullivan

      married at St. Brendan Church in Chicago, Illinois.

It has been a full week since my last post. As a typical goal-oriented American, I pledged to post every day in July 2017, and once August hit, I was done. Whew. No more thinking about what to write about today.

Today is August 7th, and I miss the guantlet. Without the pressure of a daily deadline, my writing is just that – dead. Or at least sound asleep, snoring its head off.

I’m taking an Intercultural Communication course this summer at Valparaiso University, and we’ve been assigned a final research paper due this week. I opted to research cultural differences in concepts of self-worth in the United States, South Africa, and Tibet.

It’s no surprise that I am a product of my culture – independent, desiring my own sense of personal power, accomplishment-driven, freely seeking, and often lost in a muddle of to-do lists. Without the pressure of a charge, I flounder.

So I create tasks. It boosts my sense of self-worth, even if the challenge is top secret and nobody cares but me.  In the old days, I’d sign up for marathons; now I enroll in classes. Or tackle the Whole 30 (with red wine). Sometimes I get Tim wrapped up in the duty – like washing windows. He hates that.

I’m going to update this blog every Monday for the next few months. The goal is pretty ambiguous, but like I said, I need to have a sense of personal power. I’m not letting anybody, including myself, tell me what to do.

That spells trouble for many of us.

Peg McShane Walsh shared this coping strategy with me.

 We’re all doing the best we can.

While running with Maggie and Teresa, Maggie asked, ““Why do you write, Nancy?”

I’m slow to articulate answers to big questions, and that was a biggee. So I hemmed and hawed until Teresa said, “Nancy, you write because it’s fun.” Hmm. She’s right. It is fun – unless writer’s block builds a fortress in my brain, and I’m forced to start cleaning.

Last week, I described my July posting challenge to my friend Kim, and Kim asked, “Do you really want that pressure?”

Hmm. Writing creates about as much tension as completing that 500 piece jigsaw puzzle on the dining room table. It’s more of a compulsion or a magnetism combined with pure pondering. Hmm.

Like Mary Oliver says, “Be fascinated. Tell about it.” I’m trying, Mary. It’s just so perplexing to find the words to capture those amazing moments.  So I post anyway, even if it’s not “good enough.” It’s never quite right.

I write out of humor and heartache, sadness and awe – to feel connected to the human experience. I write to laugh, and I write to vent. I write to understand, and I write to battle isolation. I write out of love with a hope to share it, bottle it, and open it later.

Beth Foran taught me to give witness to the wackiness of our idiosyncratic behavior – a gift I will always cherish. I write to bear witness to absurdity and to foster forgiveness, of self and of others.

Language is beautiful but so inadequate. Words are limited and confining, yet some authors and poets create eloquent metaphors, astute parallels and wondrous imagery out of bare bones letters. How do they do it? Teach me.

Love, life, grief, celebration, child rearing and child leaving. Marriage, friendship, family, running and nature. Mindfulness and meaning; presence and purpose. Disappointment, joy, and kindred soul mates who reveal the beauty of being all in.

Why write?

Out of sheer gratefulness to God.

Kevin Francis Scannell – age 18 – Valparaiso High School Graduation – May 2015

Francis Michael Neylon – Kevin’s grandfather – age 18 –  United States Navy – Summer 1943

After graduating from high school, Kevin enrolled at DePaul University in Chicago. My dad entered the Navy through the gates of Soldier’s Field in Chicago.  Our children are free to pursue creative endeavors because our parents made it possible. And the Greatest Generation wouldn’t want it any other way.

There’s a bright side to last weekend’s tumbled tree into my CRV:

1. No more new-car syndrome. The car is trashed. Who cares if I spill?
2. I don’t care about cars. My ten-year-old van had more dinks than a junkyard.
3. It was my car that the tree squashed.
4. The tree did not hit my neighbor Scott who had just walked past and heard the CRACK! The tree missed him by six feet.
5. The tree fell on Saturday, so when my neighbor who follows an Orthodox faith saw the car crunch and power lines spark, she ran over to tell me. She said she would have texted, but it was the Sabbath and electronic usage is forbidden . If she had texted, I would not have gotten the message because I was hosting a no-cellphone yoga retreat. Saturday was a perfect day for the accident. 
6. Tim was in Valpo because he opted out of the yoga retreat. Shocker. He would have lost his mind without Wifi for a whole weekend.
7. The Michiana Shores Volunteer Firefighter went to Mount Carmel High School – just like Tim. Small world!
8. I met neighbors. My mom regularly asks, “How are your neighbors?” For over a year, I answer, “I don’t know. I haven’t met them. The house is in the woods.” Now I can say I met Rick, Barb, Reed (a real hoot), Mark, Jody and her daughter Dory and her two granddaughters ages five and three. Playmates for Eileen!
9. I like my rental, a Nissan Versa. It requires a key to start the engine. No more wondering if my car key really is in my purse when I approach my car.
10. Amber at Enterprise Rental Car is getting married next year – just like Bethy!
11. The act boosts the economy with increased income for workers – NIPSCO, Comcast, Enterprise, M&S Collision, Tow Truck Company, Adjuster, Arborist/landscaper. It’s quite a boon.
12. My insurance agent Dave Karp is absolutely awesome. He is a great friend, but I never knew he was the best insurance agent in Northwest Indiana.
13. We have loads of firewood!

Life changes.  All the time. “How can we be better?” translates into “how can we do better?” Is it okay just to be? To be more prayerful? More forgiving? More loving? Instead, we pledge what not to do: no more sugar, no more fried food, no more margaritas, no more f-bombs, no more complaining about energetic Watson, our dog. (Resolved by sending Watson to college when we sold the Chandana house.) Our resolutions become things I must do: stretch after each run, practice yoga daily, write for at least twenty minutes a day, call loved ones, drink more water, go to daily mass, eat more vegetables. Check things off the list, stick to the goals, feel  better and possibly eliminate hot flashes. Life will be good once I eliminate chips and salsa from my diet – spices trigger heat, according to Mr. Google. Life will be good when I establish the perfect closet organizing system or set concrete learning objectives and assessment plans for each of my classes. Life will be good when I am done training for the next long race. (Resolved by no more racing.) Life will be great  when I see my kids.

Life will be good when I choose just to be me and to love living with it.

I honestly started this blog as a to-do and not-do list upon our return from seeing Brendan. The kids have grown up, moved out, and they are happy. What gives them peace is knowing that Tim and I have embraced the changes and we are proud of them.

Here are my tangible, concrete goals as of May 2014:

See family more and stay in touch (July 2017 Trying!)

Learn to use Microsoft Publisher (still on the list)

Try two new healthy recipes a week (Did I really think I’d do this?)

Figure out Pinterest (Nope, not yet.)

Make plans for a beach day with Chicago friends (You bet!)

Make plans for a beach day with Valpo friends (Yep!)

Clean out my office (Oh boy)

Update my 2013-14 self-evaluation at VU (Part of my job)

Prep for my fall English 200 course (Of course)

Organize the garage – I know, it’s dull, but the garage bugs me (Sold the house – no more Valpo garage!)

The Hamlet list digs much more deeply:

How will I be better? How will this trip make me more loving? How will I glorify God more with my life? How does God wish to be glorified? I have a clear cut “Thou shalt not” list, and I have two simple first commandments.

I wonder if God is up there shaking his or her head thinking, “Why do you complicate things? Why try to organize and control? You aren’t in charge.” Duh.