It’s time to start writing again. The six weeks away from this blog was far from intentional, it just happened. After my last post, the feeling of peace that had come over me quickly left and I was thrown into the tension of a very full February and then the end of Winter Quarter. And now here I am, feeling more unmotivated than ever in my studying and instead in the mood to write. You are my friends, my family, my support in every step of life, and it is only fair for you to know what I am thinking. It’s only right that you know what exactly it is that has brought me to a point of total exhaustion and unrest as spring waits just around the corner.
I love spring and the newness it brings with it. While the grey Seattle rain continues to pour, pink blossoms emerge on trees that have been naked for months. Mixed with the March snowfall are white petals flying in the wind and it is hard to tell what are flakes and what are flowers. The beauty of the weeks leading up to spring is usually something that stops me in my tracks, but lately it has been terrifying me more than anything. The coming of spring means the beginning of an end. I graduate in less than three months. This goal that has always been so far away, so unachievable, and so grown-up is approaching faster than I’d like it to and my life is about to undergo a huge change.
Many tears have been shed as I consider the end of this time. As a dear friend often reminds me, though, we are ever changing beings. Yes, some changes feel bigger than others, but we are never truly stationary. Even when we think nothing is changing, the world around us is still changing and we are changing with it. Life is entering a period of transition and I finally picked up Letters to a Young Poet after about three years of my sister recommending it to me. It seems that I picked it up at exactly the right time, similarly to when I picked up A Grief Observed precisely when I needed to in Rwanda. One passage in particular struck me, along with several others, about two weeks ago:
It seems to me that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living. Because we are alone with the unfamiliar presence that has entered us; because everything we trust and are used to is for a moment taken away from us; because we stand in the midst of a transition where we cannot remain standing.
Three months before I dress up in a cap and gown and step foot off a podium and into the real world, I feel as though I am stuck. There are days I feel completely unprepared for what is to come and there are days that I just want to be there now. The struggle is to remain present right where I am. It shouldn’t be a struggle, though, because where I am is so very good. Between my home, group, school, the band, my boyfriend and my family, there is absolutely nothing that should be concerning me. These are all things I love and they are surrounding me all the time…why would I ever want to accelerate to a time when these things are not the way they are right now? I am experiencing a strange pull in two directions: one coaxes me out of the present and into the future while another sticks my feet in the mud and strikes me with a paralysis concerning the future.
God is in all of this, though. God is in our wanting and our waiting, our laughing and our crying, our fear and our joy. God was in our past and God will be in our future, but most importantly God is in our present. My prayer every morning is that He will walk with me through the day. It is my prayer that the next few months will be full of life, joy, peace and excitement. Not anticipation. Not anxiety. Excitement. Because life with God is an adventure, not a dark and terrifying journey.