Hurtling Toward the Unknown

Well, it’s almost time. 

Almost time to head back to campus for what very well might be my last semester of college, my last few months of wandering along tree-laden walkways amongst the iconic red-brick buildings, the end of living and learning surrounded by friends and professors and colleagues and opportunities to stretch myself from within the safety net of being a student.

This role has been a large part of my life since I was 3 or 4 years old: student. I’m not sure what to do with the knowledge that I’ll soon be leaving that niche, that I won’t be able to claim the title of “student” and anchor it to a particular educational institution any longer after the next several months.

I love school, and I almost always have. Sure, you’ll still hear me grumbling about it once in a while, but no relationship is perfect… 😉 So it feels like I’m leaving a friend behind, a really good one.

I know you never stop learning, despite not spending each weekday in a classroom listening to lectures on women’s issues and rhetoric or partaking of lively discussions on history and horticulture, debating forensic techniques and cases or offering a fresh perspective on literary works.

But a piece of my heart loves those weekdays spent in classrooms, surrounding myself with likeminded literature-lovers and rhetoricians, amateur horticulturists and quiet feminists.

I’m comforted by this: Every task, opportunity, challenge, etc., is a chance to learn something. To put into use something learned before. To stretch and discover. To put faith in you and your abilities.

After all, I was not given a spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7), but a Father who cares for and supports me, who will hold me up and guide me to new possibilities and open doors. So until I know where I’m going, I choose this approach: