A Slow-Burning Love

When I was 16, I fell in love with Yale.

I don't quite remember how it happened, but somehow, I decided that it was my dream school--and that I wanted to come.

Of course, it helped that a guy I had a crush on (and who was 2 years ahead of me in high school) came here and not only wrote me about it--the Harry Potter-esque dining hall, the cozy suites with fireplaces--but also encouraged me to apply.  But I can honestly say that somehow I wanted to come to Yale without even really knowing why.

Life had other things in store.  I ended up skipping senior year of college to attend a local university, where my dad taught.  Academics, which had been my strong suit growing up, seemed more difficult, and I diverted a lot of my energy towards spiritual development, getting very involved in my campus fellowship.  I decided that academic achievement came secondary to spiritual things.

And so my path took a turn towards the helping profession, leading me to become a Board-Certified music therapist and to learn about humanity rather than studying the humanities.  I managed to get a master's degree and obtain good grades, but academia no longer appealed to me, and I was more interested in saving the world, getting married, and raising a family.

The Yale dream never quite went away, though.  At one point, when I was a 25 and pondering engagement to a boyfriend, I fantasized about coming to Yale Law School.  Law school is one of the few graduate programs with no undergraduate major requirements, and many music majors eventually go to law school because of this.  I thought I had a fair chance.

Again, life took over.  I broke up with my boyfriend and was having to work full-time in the San Francisco Bay Area to support myself.  There was no time or money for application essays or fees.  I experienced some pretty profound spiritual encounters--ones that were probably baby-steps towards what many women mystics from the Middle Ages have written about. Academics fell by the wayside again, and it would be another few years before it called my name again.

It is now 2016, and in three months, I will graduate from Yale Divinity School at the age of 30. Life finally allowed me to meet the school of my dreams, and to combine both academic and spiritual interests into one graduate degree.  Twelve years passed between me falling in love with Yale (from a distance) and finally meeting her. From the first actual glance of the institution to the consummation of my degree, it's been a flow-burning love that is now past its honeymoon phase.  But this love has been true, and faithful.  Long have I waited to call myself a Yalie, and I will never stop being grateful for the chance to do so.