Life in the Girls’ Dorm

It was on one of the hottest days of the entire year of 2006 that my wife and I packed a small U-haul and left everything that made us comfortable behind; our friends, our family, our house, and our beloved little dog (Lucille 3)  to follow a dream. It was a difficult decision to make and the execution proved infinitely more difficult. So for the last two years we have lived in Chicago as I pursued a Master’s degree in Christian History.

These two years have been the hardest of our young marriage. We’ve struggled finding ourselves in this new world. We’ve faced tragedy unlike anything we’ve had to face yet as husband and wife; some of which we have yet to digest. We have cried. We have wept. We have doubted ourselves and our resolve to see this through.

But we never doubted the other. I have always known of my wife’s unfaltering selflessness. She is a profoundly beautiful example of God’s redeeming grace; a life rescued so that others might be blessed. And though I have doubted my abilities, my wife never did. She has been a constant source of support and encouragement.

This is not to say that there has been no joy in our lives in the last two years. We have made wonderful new friends. We have made many, many fond memories in this maddening city. We have, as we have always done, laughed a lot… a whole lot. But it has been difficult.  And through it all, my wife has stood by me; faithfully and proudly. I love her.

This for her. This if for my beautiful wife…

Yesterday morning I got to attend a live taping of the Oprah Winfrey Show. One of the students that lives in my dorm had an extra ticket, and she offered it to me. I was so excited to go. Seeing Oprah is one of the things I really wanted to do while living in Chicago, but didn’t think it would happen due to tickets being really hard to get.

We had to be on a bus to the Harpo Studio by 6 am, which is way early for me! We arrived at the studio and they shuffled us through security to a holding room. After about an hour of waiting we were let into the studio. They warmed us up for a few minutes by having us practice facial expressions. Apparently, the more dramatic the better. The audience was mostly female, but there were a few men who looked less than thrilled to be there. I don’t have any pictures because cameras weren’t allowed. I didn’t get any TV time, but it was so much fun!

I’ve talked to literally ten’s of people who say they would love to live in Downtown Chicago. I never have been able to get there. What with the the 3.5 million jerks (***edited for younger readers) that live here, the inconvenience of it all, and the constant feeling that you are not beautiful enough, rich enough, or good enough to be alive and breathing their air, it has been hard for me to utter the words, “I love Chicago.”

But tonight it came to me. You see, I am a scent guy. I smell everything. Smells impact me in a profound, if not unusual, manner. I get it from my dad, I’ve been told. As I was walking home from work, amidst the regular smells of hot asphalt, exhaust fumes, and raw sewage; it hit me. The scent of a blossom. I’m not sure what it was; whether it was a tree, bush, or flower (my mother could tell you exactly… she’s a genius when it comes to horticulture) but it was sweet and succulent and wonderful.

And it meant the world to me. Chicago, the miserable place that it is, has had this effect on me a number of times and I’ve never noticed it. Here in man’s kingdom, the city, I have been absolutely raptured by some of the smallest and inconsequential things. Surrounded by filth, hatred, and fear; the smallest glimpse (or scent) of beauty sends me sailing.

For that I am grateful. For that I can say, “I Love Chicago.”