I know people talk about "hating change" all the time. I work at a state university, so believe me... when someone changes the location of the community hand sanitizer... people go into panic mode. [I mean, I'm all about cleanliness...but let's get real...our ancestors pushed through the bacteria/germs of their day without handy dandy pump-style hand sanitizers. I think we'll be fine, people. Just chill.] Change, in all of the many forms it can represent, wreaks havoc on our hearts, on our minds... but most heavily... in how we feel peace.
Now, I'll be the first to admit I have a teeny-weeny control problem. To dive into the tip of the iceberg, let me provide some details to substantiate my claim. I love sticky notes. I don't care what color/pattern/shape they are. If they stick and I can write on them... I probably own a pack... in every color option that corporate sells. My planner is color coordinated. I can see how that simple admission, in itself can seem weird... but think about what else this means. In order for me to keep up, (consistently) with a color coordinated planner... I must also carry around pens of every possible color option I could ever possibly need. [I have my own "pen organizer." You can stop judging me... righhhhhttt... NOW!] I also have a "driving issue." Let's just say this... if I agree to ride in any other seat but the driver's seat with you....then I trust you like I trust myself. [Paul, Shawn, Nicole, Alex, and Ashley are reading this and laughing at me: I drove all the way to and from NC by myself because of this.... Yep. Love you guys.] I fold my laundry in accordance to a detailed system of efficiency. [Yes, I'll spare you the details.] I make to do lists for each day, for each degree, for each goal, for each big event. I'll admit, there are days where it's imperative that I make a "to do" list in order to combat my other to do lists. In order to spare myself further embarrassment/shame... I'll assume that you get the point, you are totally appalled, and I can move on with other miscellaneous thoughts.
I'm experiencing a time in my life that is totally scary. Not the kind of "scary" I experienced this past Halloween when every woman on the planet [except me, thank-you-very-much] decided to dress up like "SEXY_________________" [you can insert the scariest "blank" you experienced there]. A different kind, altogether. The kind of scary that only gets bigger the more you dwell on it or analyze it. It's a kind of scary that challenges what is most important to you. It pushes you beyond your comfort zone, and requires that you undergo a series of cost benefit analysis' of your options, or for some... pro/con lists. It requires that you look your deepest and most worry-filled fears in the face...and call them out for exactly what they are... mere possibilities. I guess I've always been someone who liked the game of probability a bit more than I appreciated the game of hope. Hope can bring so many beautiful gifts... but only a realist can appreciate the double-edge of that sword... it can also bring you so many dark disappointments. To be truthful- a big part of me wishes I was that glassy-eyed-girl. What beauty follows the woman with not a care in the world! [I happen to think that the reason "she" is so beautiful... is because she doesn't ACTUALLY exist...] So if you're someone who struggles with this [all arrows pointing at ME!!]... do you look through the glass with the mental preparation that when you toss the dice.... anything could happen? Or do you HOPE? Do you hope it lands on the number of your choice?
I probably won't know the answer to that for as long as I live. But there are a few things I DO know.
You ACT as if the best option is going to happen. Though you may have lacked the stamina and "controllessness" to actually "hope"... you must ACT as if you DID, and simultaneously, that you KNOW that option will be triumphant. You PREPARE your hardest for the most desirable of all outcomes. You are called to work fervently and with passion... not to remain idle and succumb to laziness. I know that there are certain gifts I have been given by my Creator...that if sacrificed for a career, path, or lifestyle that will make me more financially stable or "safer"... that would be a disobedience to the "gift." I know that when I lay my head down at night, when I talk to God... He hears me, and He yearns to comfort me. I know that even in my weakest of moments, when i doubt, or sin, or fail to forgive myself... that He understands a heart like mine. So when I cry, because I have no control over my future, over the things I wish so desperately to put "hope" in...I am wasting my time. I am sacrificing the gift by spending time worrying about HOW I am to use it...instead of just USING it.
In 1 Corinthians, there's a verse that has brought simplistic beauty to this struggle. A verse that gives me my purpose in my moments when all the things I feel comfortable and safe in start unraveling...
"And don't be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God's place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there." [1 Corinthians 7:17]
[HHHEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOO!!!]
My purpose and my focus is supposed to be here. Not on tomorrow. Not on eight months from now. I can prepare for those milestones, but only in the capacity of reaching a possible opportunity. I cannot allow my head to run months ahead of me, while the remaining parts of my body struggle in every single way to catch up. I have to trust that when opportunities "pop" up that I have been refined into the exact young woman that God planned for... enough to be successful throughout whatever endeavor is on my plate. I have to trust that being "present" is more important than preparation. [Though, I am NOT advocating a life VOID of preparation.... we are not called to that extreme, either.] So we fight for the things, and for the people.... that God puts right in front of us. No matter how painful it is... no matter how many times a day you curse the circumstances: you have to trust and you have to love. Nothing else matters. Nothing.
The [almost] 24 year-old who stills feels like a little girl on Christmas mornings--- praying that she can remember the important details to get through life...like; how to jump on her bed, how to ride a horse through unharvested corn, and how to dance around in her pajamas before bed each night....
-Kami
[I should also tell you, for your personal amusement.... that I am wearing matching strawberry pajamas right now. They are unflattering. They make my butt look saggy. You and I BOTH can trust and love in that....]
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