The past few semesters, we’ve put on an evening breakfast for students trying to survive finals week. Last year, it was a staff-driven thing. This month–tonight, in fact–one of the student teams has spearheaded it. I volunteered to set up and run the griddle borrowed from the Knights.
Comfort food is good. Every so often my mom would have a “breakfast-at-dinnertime,” and we enjoyed the change-up from the routine of meat and potatoes.
It seems that the students are more stressed out than I remember from my college days. My own experience is pretty much irrelevant in comparison. I hated final exams. I rarely did well on them. Finals week was usually a time I spent trying to keep my grades from slipping off the dean’s list. So by the time I was a junior, I mostly blew them off anyway. Today’s crowd seems a lot more serious. Maybe a lot more is on the line for them than it was in the heady days of the 70′s.
Anyway, I will be praying during each drip of pancake batter. Our patron saint here might have a word or two of assistance:
Grant me, O Lord my God,
a mind to know you,
a heart to seek you,
wisdom to find you,
conduct pleasing to you,
faithful perseverance in waiting for you,
and a hope of finally embracing you.