Don't fear the g-word

I have approximately nine months left of my college education.

This revelation, far from bringing excitement to my fellow seniors, seems to be paralysis-inducing. For many seniors I know, the g-word generates almost as much consternation as an f-bomb at afternoon tea.

I'll admit, looking into a future full of nebulous possibilities is a little weird. However, I'm very much looking forward to graduating.

Consider this: another meaning of the word “graduate” is to change slowly, or even to mark by steps. Change happens. People take classes and then work and get married (or not) and will change, even if they don’t want to, even if they try their best not to.

Some people, looking at those changes, are afraid that all that’s come before will simply be the accumulation of failure. After four years of college, they’ll be stuck with debt and a job search, wondering if it was worth it.

I believe it is.

I don't think that four years of thinking, writing, trying and failing, managing my own money and time, and working harder than I ever have could be wasteful. Graduating will be one step in my graduation. Since I’m always changing, what’s one more change?

It's almost like a divine metaphor.

And remember, new territory isn’t anything to be afraid of.

 ^“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

—Joshua 1:9

Nine months more.

The new normal

I'm back at Taylor, and it feels quite normal.

I went to my Indiana church this morning. I am in a different room this year, but on the same floor, and the walls are the same and the type of doors are the same and the mess from moving in is the same. My freshman year, I came early for orientation and these last two years I've come early for theater and discipleship activities, so that feels normal too, even though campus isn't full. 

Summer patterns are gone. (This means no more Wednesday book reviews, but I will post reviews whenever I do have time to finish a book.) Already, I'm anticipating trying to do too much at once and being tired and going to friends' game nights. I can imagine the angle of the sun when I slip out the side door after chapel. I can ignore the voices that come from the street below my window at 11 at night, because those are typical.

But there's something that's not going to be the same as last year: the people. I have seven brand new people I'm supposed to take care of, as well as a few I know but not well. I have to make room for them in my life. 

I've made it possible for me to ignore people a lot. I'm used to working alone, I excuse myself for not remembering names and faces, and I like to take for granted that others are better suited to helping people than I am. For me, these things are normal.

I don't want to slip into patterns this year. I want a discernment that shows me what steps I need to take each day, and for that discernment to result in intentionality in forwarding relationships. (Sounds like a God thing, huh?) I'm not good at these things. They're not embedded in my normal. I hope to put them there.