Saying Yes to I Don't Know

I had to do an end-of-year questionnaire for my major. These are some of the things I was asked:

   Have you begun a networking strategy for post-graduation? List individuals you have spoken to regarding your career.

   Do you have a personal artistic mission or purpose? What are some elements of that purpose? 

   At this point, what are your post-graduation plans? 

I panicked. Networking strategies? Mission statements? Plans?

At my delicate, barely-not-even-adult age, I am being asked these huge, big-picture type questions, and it makes me wonder if those should be the things that fill my head, because the things I think about on a daily basis are not big-picture. Today, I was walking back to my room and thought, I should pet a golden retriever today. And that was it. I didn't think about my "network." I just wanted to interact with a fluffy dog. That's who I am right now.

And that's okay.

I don't know where my life is headed. But God does. And right now, I'm just waiting for Him to let me in on little bits and pieces of it. I could become a freelance writer, I could become a professional golden retriever walker, I could land a role in the next Star Wars movie, or I could be a barista for the rest of my life and open a coffee shop/bakery/antique book store. Anything could happen, and that anything could be completely aligned with my idea of how my life should go, or it could be the exact opposite, which is more likely. Either way, I'm just happy to be along for the ride.

Lately I've been reading this book, and there was a chapter on saying yes to opportunities that God puts in our lives. The author said He often uses completely random and non-logical things to point us towards Him. Maybe we don't think we're qualified, but chances are there's a reason we're being asked to join into something, so we'd better not miss out on God's inexplicably cool plans. 

I want that. The adventure that comes from throwing the agenda out the window. I think I'm getting little tastes of it. The other day, I got asked to act in a sketch for my school's version of SNL. I had a free hour, so I did it. Earlier this month, I got asked to lead worship for my dorm's speaker series. I can play the ukulele and sing, so I did it. Then, someone asked if I could take pictures to be on posters around the school for someone's senior performance piece. I can take pictures. So I said yes. They were little things, things I like doing, and they didn't mess up anything on my schedule, so I said yes.

And then it hit me. What if God's pulling a Mr. Miyagi on me? What if He's starting out with small things, and then one day someone will come running up to me and ask me to do something I never thought I was capable of? Something that scares me and maybe even messes up my schedule. 

Will I say yes?

I hope so. I'd hate to miss out on His plans. They always end up being so much better. 

April's Foreboding Showers

Everyone around me is complaining about how strenuous their nights of not studying for finals are, wearing Birkenstock sandals, and asking each other every five minutes "how excited" they are for summer to start. No one every says what exactly summer holds that make it so enticing... I think they're just ecstatic about concept.

I'm all for warm weather and adventures, but pretending that I'm "so ready to be out of here" with everyone else is draining. Because I'm not. Ready. I like it here. Why is everyone so ready to leave? We just got here. Some people are leaving for good, because they're graduating. Is no one else bummed about that? If I were those seniors I'd be terrified.

When I wake up here each morning, I know what will happen. I know exactly what's expected of me and there are people each day that I'm excited to talk to and it's all very comfortable and familiar. I don't want that to change. I think I'm putting off hunting for cardboard boxes because the thought of packing up my dorm room is just too overwhelming. I don't want to wake up in a room that isn't this one, with nothing to look forward to each day.

I don't want to hunt for a boring, fluorescent-lit, minimum wage job that will drain my sunny days and will to live. I don't want to scour used car lots for an aged car with personality that I can give people rides in with pride only to get stuck with a smelly, beige Toyota that I despise. I don't want to have to wait for weekly phone calls to hear the voices of the people here that I love instead of sauntering over to their bedroom. I don't want to be bored and lonely and stressed for two months. Why would I?

So to answer your question: no, I'm not excited for finals either, but not for the reason you think.

To the Graduating Class,

The latter half of senior year of high school had such a profound effect on me that it would be an injustice not to share some of it, if only to help others climb out of the black holes into which I plummeted. Seniors, I can say with confidence that I know what you're going through. Here are a few things I would be remiss if I didn't impart to you:

- Firstly, people never stop saying how "fun and exciting" senior year is. I never got why, and it's okay if you don't either. Senior year was a dark, trying time, and well-meaning adults can handle it if you're honest with them. It's okay if you hate it. You're not the only one.

- The tumultuous burden of applications is finally over, but the final decision-making period will take almost as much of a toll. Don't let it define you. I spent so much time worrying over whether not I would pick the "right" school, the "right" classes, etc. But the truth is: any school is the right one if you feel at home there. In the end, it comes down to relationships. You can switch majors or meal plans, but you can't change the people you're surrounded with. Focus on choosing a community rather than a set of buildings.

- Your grades right now do not matter as much as you think they do. I know that is blasphemous and hypocritical (especially coming from someone who cared a LOT about that), but it's true. Something that will become very clear in college is that at the end of the day they're just numbers. Your best may not be the Ivy League's standard of "best" and that is okay. You do not have to prove yourself to anyone. If you're deciding between studying for an exam and having one last sleepover with all of your best pals, give yourself a night off and cherish the people that will soon be scattered.

- Please, please, please appreciate the value of living at home while you still can. So-called "freedom" is not all it's cracked up to be, and there will be so many days you will miss the convenience and familiarity that comes with home and family. Savor the luxury of high-quality bathrooms. Thank your washing machine for not being old and clogged with a hundred people's hair. Don't protest that you're "practically" an adult when your parents continue to enforce curfew. Tell them you love them and then help with the dishes. I'm dead serious. That version of "normal" will end, and you will miss it.

- It's okay if you're not going to miss most of the people you go to school with. It's okay to let go of high school. Even if you're all going to the same state school together, get excited for the brand new crop of friends you're going to make. Don't be afraid to select the "random" option for a roommate. The unknown can be surprisingly beautiful when it comes to making friends; chances are those same five people you're used to hanging out with will disperse, and that's okay. Keep in touch with the important people, but stay open to the prospect of new ones.

- Right now you're probably really good at a lot of things that won't matter in a few months. And that's fine, and you should enjoy this time when your ability to procrastinate and flirt and other high school things are all that you need to do. But soon no one will care that you were class president or prom queen or have a hot tub or an A in Bio. You'll be the one who's inexperienced and naive, and you'll need to be ready to humble yourself and learn. It's a tough transition, so don't let it shock you.

- At the same time, don't let anyone make you think you have to know what you're doing with your life right now. When people ask you where you "want to go" with your major, you can say "I don't know yet." They will live with that answer. You're not supposed to have it all figured out. In fact, that's part of the beauty of this time. Eventually, you WILL need to figure things out, but that's not for a while. College is not the end, it is merely a stepping stone. You can focus on this one step and not the next 5.

In general, just don't wind yourself too tight and let life happen to you. You've come so far, and there's so much ahead of you, and the best thing you can do for yourself is relax into it.

Oh, and throw confetti and scream and take a BILLION pictures at graduation. Let it be the happiest, cheesiest celebratory day ever. You've earned it.

It Was a Sweats-Only Week

As I should probably have expected, registering for even the most mundane of classes next semester sent me spiraling into a "what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-whole-life" abyss of despair:

Okay, so I have to take Scientific Enterprise because core classes or whatever but I will only take it during the 1:15 slot so I can take that cool Shakespeare acting class OH what if I took a class where I analyzed classical music and got to be all hipster and spend an hour 3 days a week being pretentious and knowing stuff about the Renaissance, that exists right, I could do it after yoga, but wait Musical Theater is at the same time as Creative Writing so I can't take it until junior year but that was when I wanted to go "abroad" which might just end up being a semester in LA but like how cool would it be to actually hop off a plane at LAX with a dream and a cardigan JUST ONCE, that could be cool and I could get an internship at BuzzFeed or something and have swivel chair races through the office with Zach Kornfeld and become BFFs and then when I came back to make a real living I'd already have pals who knew how hilarious and adorable I was but wait would I like, MOVE there because I'm not a city person and HOLD UP I still have to live in Europe at some point but if I'm going to actually for real be in movies in real life I should probably get on that, I mean why don't I actually have an agent yet, I wonder if Matt knows where to find one, he probably has like a billion New York connections by now, wow I'm so behind in the industry and I'm not even there yet but WAIT A SECOND how do I only have 12 credits, they scheduled all the good classes at the same time why do they do that??? 

Somehow I've found myself in Power Yoga, Advanced Shakespeare Acting, Environmental Science, and Survey of Musical Masterworks all at the same time and my income has yet to exceed nine dollars an hour. But it's cool. I'm still in the campus bubble.

For now.

Blue Tuesday

If I'm planning a surprise (or am just aware of one that's being planned), I can hardly contain it. When I made plans to secretly go home over fall quad break, I couldn't tell my family, so I told everyone at Gordon that I possibly could. It was like the emotion was too much for me to physically contain, and to process it I had to let some out, a little at a time, by giving it to others.

Secrets, joyful or sorrowful, are like that. They carry weight, and sometimes that weight is too much for one person to carry. That's how they get told. From then on, every person that receives the secret carries a bit of that weight too. Whether they like it or not.

That's why it's so huge to be the caretaker of one. You have to decide. Do you carry the weight alone... forever? Or do you burden others with it for their lives too?

Having both been burdened and been the one to hand that burden others, it's hard to say. But I don't regret having to carry some things. Today I could feel someone else's weight from hundreds of miles away, and in a small way I am with them in the carrying, even if they can't feel it themselves.

I think trusting others to carry our secrets makes us brave. Holding them inside ourselves forever robs others of the chance to test their strength, and after so many years our shoulders just get tired.



As your guardian, I was instructed well
to make sense of God's love in these fires of hell

Things I Love With All My Heart

My hair the morning after a good shower: deliciously soft, mussed up, wavy, still damp in the back.

The sound of a man shaving with a non-electric razor: the scrape of blade against stubble, like light sandpaper.

Similarly, the sound of long hair being cut with scissors and the crispness of each snip.

When I am burrowed deep into my comforter in the early hours of the morning, before the "get out of bed" guilt has set in, and it is wrapped snugly and folded up around and against my back, the perfect amount of cushion, and somehow the extra padding against my spine makes me feel utterly safe and calm.

When I am trying to massage my own neck and I press on just the right knot and it sends delicious goosebumps down every inch of my skin.

The way I can listen to Future of Forestry and hear the nights in the fall of 2012, walking the lonely streets of suburban Stafford, or hear Jukebox the Ghost and be transported to wintery car rides with Grace senior year, or hear the acoustic version of Painting Roses and see the sunny back roads through a windshield when I go home on breaks and realize I missed being alone almost more than I did being with people.

The smell of cinnamon, anywhere, anytime, especially on top of coffee.

Picking up things with my toes

The way I can go for a walk and take the person that I am around every other person in the world and shed her like a jacket. There's a whole other Self hidden underneath that comes out to play, and I'm the only person she's met and we like it that way.

Poetry about air travel (as someone who's probably spent more of her life in airports than out of them, it feels like home)

When the little strand on the left side of my head curls by itself

Having the realization that an embarrassing love for something is actually just some adorably quirky part of me that I can be proud of instead

The sound of water boiling and the knowledge that my macaroni will be done soon

Concocting incredibly elaborate unrealistic movie scenes (starring myself) to the music of another film score and pretending that if that movie was made it would still have that exact music

Being in wide-open or high places during a storm that involves heavy rain without wind, accompanied by thunder and lighting, while listening to dramatic instrumental music

Surprising people I haven't seen in ages by being somewhere they don't expect me and the look on their face and the endless hugging that ensues

The little butt-wiggle that cats do before they pounce on something

Being carried without having to ask

Dear Brother,

I write from a (mostly) quiet coffee shop counter. It is the hour at which the only customers are the ones who are like me: drowsy but still focused, and content when left to themselves; every new walk-in either feels like an intrusion or destiny. Behind me, the coffee pot sizzles like a small, sad version of our fireplace at home. You don't know how lucky you are. I should be pored over the French textbook next to me, but my head and heart are filled with thoughts of you.

You, who strides with confident adolescent swagger down those high school halls like a blindfolded man through a minefield, unaware of the dangers on every side. You, who will scoff at Dad's lectures on purity but let me give the same ones ten minutes later, collapsed across my bed instead of your own. You, who still calls me after every good Castle episode just so we can yell excitedly at each other through the phone, even if only for five minutes, after which I hang up longing to hear what's really going on in your heart.

Do you have any idea where you are?

You are at the crucial point of your existence. Some might say it's when you leave home, or when you start working, but I say it's now. At the precarious, fragile beginnings of high school, when it's not cool to care yet, and you can skate by on apathy and shallow friendships.

Don't. Settle.

You have the biggest heart. The strongest voice. The things that God could do through you are unimaginable. He could transform that entire, terrifying school. I want bigger things for you than I could have ever accomplished in those four years. You have so many gifts that I don't: natural leadership, unapologetic opinions, and a knack for making friends. You are the perfect balance of strength and gentleness, and you could probably take my place at Gordon and win over everyone that I know in the time it took me to make one real friend. The Holy Spirit would spread like wildfire with you as a vessel and it makes my heart ache with preemptive pride because I know that in your heart of hearts, you know it too.

It's so unfair of me to ask anything of you. For you to deny the worldliness of your friends, give up every shred of the image you so carefully craft, treat girls as precious treasures even when none of them around you are worth your effort, and chase after God with everything you have would take miles more courage and maturity than I had at your age.

But oh brother, I wish it. I wish it more than anything. Some days, I'm enjoying a solitary breakfast, or trudging through the icy slush to class, and am overwhelmed with the sudden longing to walk every step through that school beside you and shield you from its blows. My heart breaks for you daily because I have so much love for you. You've been my friend so many times when I had none. You've picked on me one moment and picked me up the next. You've rejoiced with me, mourned with me, gasped over TV show twists with me, and made a fool of yourself on family vacations with me. No amount of thanks can cover the extent of joy you've brought to my life. I want nothing but the highest joy for yours, and I've seen where it's found: in Him. Your unrelenting zest for life and adventure would be more than satisfied by a life devoted to Him, and it's my prayer every day that you would seek it.

Perhaps one day, when you have crossed the minefield and are preparing to embark on a life of your own, I will tell you these things with my hands on your (much higher) shoulders and you will hear the truth in the tears that choke my voice. Until then, I remain behind this quiet coffee shop counter, praying with an aching heart.

Be brave, pal.