every finals week is the same way. it's one giant cycle of worries and freak-outs and resolutions and rejoicings. day in and day out for five or six or seven days, it's moments of intense pressure and distress and tears, and then moments of relief and happiness. it's going from "there's no way I can do this," to "oh my gosh, I just did it. whaddya know."
but what if there was only confidence, only gladness, only the moments of gratitude that usually come only after a test has been conquered, after a paper has been written and turned in? what if we realized that the very fact that we are here, breathing, studying, thinking, is a gift and a blessing and a cause for rejoicing in and of itself? let's be real here--we have no reason to run up our blood pressure or waste tears or flop back on our beds complaining that our lives are the worst. we have no reason to worry and no reason to be sad. in fact, we have no right to any of those things. we have only one duty in finals week and every other week or day or minute when things get hard or unpleasant:
be t h a n k f u l. realize that your life is actually pretty great. realize that because we have a Savior who freed us from sin and the devil and gave us every good thing, we have nothing to fear and nothing to complain about. and in the case of this finals week, these last few days before the golden months of summer, we have quite a few amazing things to love and thank the Lord for. we have flowers and shady trees and green grass. we have teachers who care about us and want to help us learn and think and become copious. we have classmates and friends and parents who love and support us no matter what, no matter whether we bomb that final or ace it. really.
this week shouldn't be a cycle of highs and lows. nervousness is normal and even helpful, but sadness and depression are not. be happy. let the grace of God wash over you. pray about what's worrying you, and pray that it would stop worrying you. thank God for the opportunities He's given you, and remember that He's gotten you through every final, every paper, every time. study outside and smile because the sun is warm and unfailing. and more than anything, attack what's been set before you. face what God's given you to do with a fierce heart and a ready mind. give it your all, and if you have to, sin boldly. God saved us for this, to work hard and sing praise and trust in Him.
so go: put your worries away. write and sleep and eat and fill yourself up with praise.
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
blank pages. //
almost exactly a year ago, I sat down and composed a post about finishing freshman year. I remember it like it was yesterday--sitting down with this same laptop, compiling my thoughts and concerns and excitement. I couldn't believe I had been at NSA for a whole school year.
and now, just like that, press fast forward and watch the days whir past and it's been another freaking year. I don't know how this keeps happening.
we sat in our last lecture of sophomore year this afternoon. I remember sitting in the first lecture for that class back in August, excited and nervous and with no idea what to expect. and now, I can't really imagine not having sat in the class sixty or so times, making awkward eye contact with my classmates during lectures on reproduction, surreptitiously eating cookies and drinking coffee, acting out photosynthesis and passing around turtle shells and coral. is this what all of life is like, beginning to end? just starting out and then, all of a sudden, being done?
I guess I could have known (probably did know) a year ago that I would inevitably be sitting here, a year later, looking back on another year spent. but this is what we do and will continue to do as long as we live. we look back on the past, and brace ourselves with excitement and longing and trepidation for the future. in five years, or ten, I could be (probably will be) sitting down at a laptop, typing up thoughts and reminiscing on years past. and this moment at the end of my sophomore year will not really be an end, but only a beginning. and I'll think to myself, as I'm thinking to myself now,
I had no idea.
this makes me feel sick and happy and sad all at the same time. I miss all the old moments, even the ones that just happened, and I like this moment, and I know in a second it'll be gone and I'll be a different person. and that by the end of my life, all my full years will just be a compilation of a million moments, 80 or 90 past years that blend and run together and form as a lot one cohesive, messy, hard, amazing story. there will be thousands of endings and beginnings and things that will never happen again and things that haven't happened yet, and that's the only way it can be. it's the only way it's supposed to be.
we'll never sit in that classroom the same way, or talk about the same things, or exchange the same looks. but I'll also never breathe this same air. I'll never live through another sixth of May, two thousand fifteen. these things have to pass on and away and make room, but they're never really gone. God knows where I was a year ago and where I am at this second and where I will be next year and the year after that. He creates and understands every single moment that passes, the good ones and the bad ones and the ones that don't even register. all the fullness of our lives and our understanding is wrapped up in Him, so that we can periodically stop, as I'm doing right now, and reflect on just a tiny portion of them. I know that this moment will pass, as will all of junior year and senior year and the rest of my life, but not for nothing--it's all etched permanently and meaningfully into my story, and there are pages and pages full of beautiful words and pictures, and many more still blank.
so let's get to it.
and now, just like that, press fast forward and watch the days whir past and it's been another freaking year. I don't know how this keeps happening.
we sat in our last lecture of sophomore year this afternoon. I remember sitting in the first lecture for that class back in August, excited and nervous and with no idea what to expect. and now, I can't really imagine not having sat in the class sixty or so times, making awkward eye contact with my classmates during lectures on reproduction, surreptitiously eating cookies and drinking coffee, acting out photosynthesis and passing around turtle shells and coral. is this what all of life is like, beginning to end? just starting out and then, all of a sudden, being done?
I guess I could have known (probably did know) a year ago that I would inevitably be sitting here, a year later, looking back on another year spent. but this is what we do and will continue to do as long as we live. we look back on the past, and brace ourselves with excitement and longing and trepidation for the future. in five years, or ten, I could be (probably will be) sitting down at a laptop, typing up thoughts and reminiscing on years past. and this moment at the end of my sophomore year will not really be an end, but only a beginning. and I'll think to myself, as I'm thinking to myself now,
I had no idea.
this makes me feel sick and happy and sad all at the same time. I miss all the old moments, even the ones that just happened, and I like this moment, and I know in a second it'll be gone and I'll be a different person. and that by the end of my life, all my full years will just be a compilation of a million moments, 80 or 90 past years that blend and run together and form as a lot one cohesive, messy, hard, amazing story. there will be thousands of endings and beginnings and things that will never happen again and things that haven't happened yet, and that's the only way it can be. it's the only way it's supposed to be.
we'll never sit in that classroom the same way, or talk about the same things, or exchange the same looks. but I'll also never breathe this same air. I'll never live through another sixth of May, two thousand fifteen. these things have to pass on and away and make room, but they're never really gone. God knows where I was a year ago and where I am at this second and where I will be next year and the year after that. He creates and understands every single moment that passes, the good ones and the bad ones and the ones that don't even register. all the fullness of our lives and our understanding is wrapped up in Him, so that we can periodically stop, as I'm doing right now, and reflect on just a tiny portion of them. I know that this moment will pass, as will all of junior year and senior year and the rest of my life, but not for nothing--it's all etched permanently and meaningfully into my story, and there are pages and pages full of beautiful words and pictures, and many more still blank.
so let's get to it.
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