In the Fullness of Time, with A Better Chance

Do you think life is essentially made up of particular moments, like grains of sand that you can feel, grainy to the touch; or is it more about patches of days or even great swaths of years that bring about sweeping changes?

One evening last week, I came home eager to tell my husband about some experiences I’d just had. Unfortunately— and this was nobody’s fault—other pressing matters got in the way. Believing that whatever I had to report was of course really, really important, I was disgruntled. The very next evening, however, we were able to have a leisurely dinner out and talk to our hearts’ (both of them) content. I had to admit that Rob had been right when he’d said–responding to my frustration–that “the fullness of time” would allow all kinds of sharing.

It won’t come as a big surprise to any of you that this phrase comes from the Bible. Apparently, you can find it in a variety of places in the Good Book, but since I don’t pretend to be any scholar, I’ll just present a single famous (I think it is, anyway) one. I have it on good authority that these are most likely the words of Paul:

But when the fullness of time came, God sent forth his son, born of a woman, born under the law.  (Galatians 4:4-5)

It’s a wonderful expression, isn’t it? In this instance, we have what sounds like a stage entrance; Jesus didn’t arrive on the scene just at any old time, but when conditions were precisely right. You know without a doubt that “the fullness of time” is a good and desirable thing — it could be embodied in a ripe and juicy peach, for instance. Patience is a virtue especially when you’re waiting for something that will only get better.

This past weekend, at Dartmouth College, I was with a group of people who reflected on an experience they’d had in common 50 years ago. At the time, it was hard, sometimes excruciating even, but in the subsequent years, they witnessed a kind of coming to fruition, a fullness, thanks to all that was invested originally.…though not without plenty of bumps and bruises.

This might be said about any number of high school or college reunions, I guess. In the case of remembering the beginning of the program called “A Better Chance,” however, what I found particularly compelling was the nature of both the individual as well as the collective stories— how they were distinctly different while also sharing so much common ground. Watching a documentary about the era–the mid-60’s– with striking pictures of young men and women, alongside a number of these same men and women as older adults sitting in the auditorium, heightened the feeling.

Here’s a picture of my son, who recently graduated from Dartmouth, getting to chat with two of the original participants–Howard Bad Hand and Barry Jones–in the summer program which launched A Better Chance.

After the movie, a number of attendees spoke about their younger selves and recalled many specific moments—grains of sand, in a way—that have stayed with them. They also spoke about the sweep of time– reflecting on what they were a part of then; where it brought them personally; and also how many children living across this land are still without “a better chance” to attain a high quality education.

Listening to these thoughtful comments, I had my own “fullness of time” realization washing over me. I first learned about ABC when my older brother became a live-in tutor at a public school program in Connecticut; he’d had such a positive experience that I jumped at the chance to do the same for just one semester during my senior year of college. The initiation was brief, but it sent me on my way to becoming a teacher; soon I would work in two different boarding schools. I meandered a bit, got married, had children, and taught some more. Then, when my husband accepted a call to a new church, we happened to land in a town where there had been, since soon after the inception of the original summer program at Dartmouth, a thriving ABC program for young men of color whose families were willing to send them off from New York City or Boston or maybe from Ohio to Amherst Regional High School. Once I joined the Board of Directors, I felt like I was in the beating heart of a strong community that really cared about being hospitable, in a full sense.

Each fall, we participated in ABC Fall Foliage Walk….

Our family and my son’s best friend’s family both became hosts on occasional weekends for two of the ABC scholars. Just hanging out together was the best part of this, of course.

When I look back on those years, “the fullness of time” expression is fitting not so much because things took a while to ripen but more because the daily schedule was so crammed. Some days, time honestly seemed more attenuated than full, because we were all stretched and challenged in our different ways. We weren’t sure, any of us, what would result 10 years down the road, much less 50.

All I can say with certainty now, really, is that I sure am glad we jumped in. I remember so many particular moments with Amherst ABC like the grains of sand that they were. Now, already, what I feel is the sweep, the way those experiences have made way for a succession of other experiences—for us as well as for the young men who have since gone off in different directions. Taken all together, it’s pretty full all right.