Dear Sewanee

Dear Sewanee,

I can still hear the referee’s whistle blowing when the coach called timeout. My teeth still vibrate as I remember the screeching of shoes against the gymnasium floor. My throat filled with dry air as it ran out of moisture because I was screaming, shouting, and cheering. It didn’t matter if we won or lost. It didn’t matter if the stands were filled with people or empty. I found joy, peace, and excitement watching the games, filling my evenings supporting student athletes. Having only been in Sewanee since early November, I became acquainted with several students that shared the same enthusiasm for school spirit. We would laugh, cheer, and part with confident promises to be at the next game. Now, in self-isolation only a block away from Fowler —the very gymnasium that used to overwhelm my senses with glee— I am sad. Yet, I am hopeful. I believe that soon I will walk out of my apartment with my snacks in hand to cheer for the students that put purpose in my heart and smiles across my face. 

Some days, I roll open my window and the birds echo the silence of our campus. They sing a song of longing and a song of life. Walking through campus I used to purposefully make eye contact with every student I saw. I would intentionally greet them to extend a connection from my presence to theirs. Now, during my walks, I become immediately fearful at the sight of every single person I see. My mask is thick from watching videos of people demonstrating that the virus can go through fabric if it’s too thin. Sometimes when I wear it, I feel like I am suffocating. I physically feel the lack of oxygen and the overwhelming fear of getting sick. Sewanee, I only met you a few months ago, and our time together does not have the longevity you share with other friends. However, this has not diminished the effect of your smile-inducing influence, invigorating student events, impactful career meetings, and bubbling complexities. Most of all, time is no indication of the purpose you restored to my heart as you invited me into your arms.

I look for words to tell you of the hug I felt from your environment rich with excitement and connectedness . My heart swells with the smile that you forced upon my face when laughter was a foreign concept. Sewanee, when I came to you, I was hurting. I came to you tender with emotional wounds that needed caring. I drove nine-hundred miles into the unknown of your spirit and found myself more loved than I ever could have imagined. Your heart pumped the antibodies that I needed to heal from emotional afflictions. No, you are not perfect, but there is a treasure at your core that reminded me of my own value. Every student you allowed me to connect with became a symbol of hope and encouragement as I walked through my personal pain. Each invitation to join a discussion or celebration lifted me toward my healing. Now, I will do for you what you did for me in the short time that we have been acquainted. I will pray, I will hope, and I will dream for you.

I dream of a community that knows an even deeper meaning of our motto Ecce Quam Bonum (EQB): “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.” My prayer is that once we are reunited in the absence of this ravishing virus we will value the very words etched into our foundation. I hope that we will work together and fill the cracks in our structure created by the seeds of inhumane events. I join in establishing a community of strength and belonging that will set a precedent every liberal arts university will seek to live up to. 

I hope for you as I abide on this glorious mountain. For it is the mountaintop experiences of my faith that keep me strong for you. I know there is a day coming when the faintness of your heartbeat will be strong again. I believe there is a time approaching when we will exchange strength and power in our global neighborhood. I am excited about the new traditions and celebrations that will unite us all in shared community experiences. In one of the hardest moments of my life you gave me hope, just by being you. With all of your greatness, and all of your flaws you shifted my perspective and helped me dream again. I stand in that position for you now. I will hold on to hope for you. I will answer when you Zoom me. I will share encouragement when you send me emails, heavy with concern. I will be honest with you when I am not okay. I will remain in communion with you, Sewanee. Through the good, bad, and horrific; I got your back. I miss you Sewanee. I can’t wait to see you again.

Your friend,
Rachel