Letters from fourth year

Posted by admin on Dec 9, 2005 in Community | 0 comments

My dear Cousin Ernest,

Ernest … Ernesto as they would say in some far-off places, places of sunshine and warmth and drinks with little umbrellas and white sand beaches and cool aquamarine ocean waters, places of refreshment and fun and relaxation, places that remain far from us students as we toil away under the self-imposed bondage of academic pursuits. Oh sunshine … where art thou? Where art thou sweet ocean breeze? I have felt nothing but the bite of the cold winter wind for far too long. I am drenched not with warm Caribbean waters, but with driving winter rains and soul-suffocating fog. Oh, I must learn how to love again.

Forgive me for my blathering, Ernest, but I am tired and I can’t think or write … or feel. I am being suffocated by the surrounding fog and drowned by the rain of the Lower Mainland. I am exhausted. In fact, I am only functioning due to the stimulating power of Red Bull Energy Drink and the stressful adrenaline created by having 57 pages of intellectual discourse left to produce by the final day of exams for my various classes. You think you have it tough as a freshman? Wait until fourth year, my young cousin. It’s a little like a big party, only instead of friends and music and food and fun you have books and profs and bloodshot eyes and a chair in “your” library carrel worn to the shape of your bum. So it’s really not like a party at all. Or if it is like party, it’s a really, really bad one and that $90,000 cover charge I’ve paid over the past four years was a total rip off.

But fear not, my young cousin. I saw you crying into your chemistry text book in a corner of the library the other day, and while I know that your stress is barely even a tiny fraction of my own, you probably are worn out in your own small freshman way; I write with a message of hope, of good news of great joy for all people, the answer to all your problems. You guessed it: Jesus.

Christmas is almost here. I know, I can hardly believe it either, but it is. Need I really say more? Christmas is one of the most amazing times of the year: presents, great food, no school, presents, relaxation, eggnog, presents, and did I mention no school? Although, Ernest, I should warn you, perhaps you might find that the refreshment that Christmas break can bring will last longer if you actually look for some renewal that can survive beyond the three days of happiness your new Lego set is going to give you. You know, stuff like reconnecting and enjoying time with your family, refocusing in your relationship with God after a hectic semester, breaking out of the apathy of exhaustion into service by recognizing the miracle and love expressed in Christ’s birth. Oh, and eggnog. Eggnog will work too.

I’m sorry for all the rambling in this letter, Ernest, but know that there is still hope amidst all the rain, the papers, and the tears shed into chemistry textbooks.

Merry Christmas,
Your cousin Bert