Like a child poised for surprises only whispered about in hallways and behind closed doors, I wait. There's nothing but the whispers and quickly hushed conversations at my presence to let me know that the surprise is for me. I don't know what it is and I haven't even a clue. My only action is to wait.
Feeling strongly like inaction.
When I moved home from Tennessee I won't deny the feeling of expectation brimming about my edges. My toes, it felt like, were inching over the start line waiting for the pistol shot reckoning go! I was a caged pigeon with a message for the world, or at least Potsdam. I was something waiting to happen.
This week marks the six month anniversary of graduation into the real world. I only know that because my loan repayments start in two days--a looming bill that feels like the ribbon holding me back from crossing that starting line. I have celebrated the six month anniversary of many things, but this is not one of them.
In this town it's hard to not be surrounded by college students, they're everywhere. In every direction I see students studying, meeting, greeting, thriving, scheduling, pursuing--and all I wish for is to be back there.
Back there it felt safe and sure. A certain goal was worked toward and certain parameters were laid and met. Here it feels like decisions have to be ascertained and solidified and felt every single day. Every single day I have to re-question whether I am doing what it right and good and true for today. Here there is no solid goal being worked toward, there is only great space in front of me.
I don't like that feeling.
Because it feels very unsafe and I don't like unsafe. It feels very precarious and I don't like precarious. It feels very aimless and I hate aimless.
I'm struggling to find footing here, to be honest. I do my job, I do it well, I enjoy my work, I enjoy my church, I enjoy my family, I enjoy my plot of soil to till, but I want to see fruit--I want to know what I'm working for. I want to know that my labor isn't in vain, it isn't just bulletin boards and hours on the phone with customer service and teaching grammar and paying bills. I want to know that there's an end to this. That there's settling down and still running the race.
I want to really know that between 12 and 30 we don't see Jesus because he was sweeping sawdust and getting splinters. I want to know that 30 is coming soon.
February 2008