me talking about being a senior again

I know I write about being a senior a lot. It's just a really interesting phase of life that I think people tend to rush through instead of processing it. And if I don't write about it, who will?

So. I thought senior year last semester would be like one long Ferris Bueller day. (I would be Ferris, not Sloane -- she's kind of an accessory.)

I would take all my Cameron-esque friends on happy adventures, do magical things and definitely not do schoolwork.

Sadly this has not been the case. I have driven no expensive red convertibles. I have hijacked a disappointing total of zero parades.

Instead, I've been struggling my way through my last semester like the time my sailboat capsized into knee-deep marsh mud at Camp Cherith. I lost a flipflop then. Now I'm losing my gumption. I'm tired. And I've only just realized that now, eating dinner in Florida with my grandparents, and trying to paint a verbal picture for those "how is school" and "what are you doing after you graduate?" questions, that I am just tired.

Home stretch. What an awful concept. Back when I had to run the mile for the terrible President's Challenge, the last 8th was the worst part. All the extremely passionate homeschool moms were cheering me on, clustered around the finished line with video cameras, which by the way who issues moms video cameras? because they need to stop. As I got closer, I just slowed down more and more. Not because I was unable to run, it just didn't seem worth it when the finish line was so near. I just wanted to walk because did it really matter in the long run? No.

Or did it?

I don't have Chariots of Fire delusions about my life anymore. I think life is a big mush of experiences, mostly eating and sleeping, punctuated by awkward beginnings and wimpy, subtle endings. In the middle, you love people and try very hard not to adore yourself, if you believe in Jesus.

I think in some ways I'm okay with the wimpy ending and the awkward beginning. It's like life, where, you know, you pop out of someone else all gross and stuff, and then slowly die when you're done on this earth. It's really okay. It's just the way it is, awkward and wimpy. Why shouldn't other "births" and "deaths" be just like the biggest ones?

I mean, I'm happy. I'm not sad about college being over. I'm just tired. Does that make sense?

But at the same time, that verse about running the race well keeps popping into my head. God is doing something in me. I know it. And in this season of beginnings and endings, I feel His Spirit in me pushing me harder to sprint to that finish line, to not give up on relationships and academics just because I can already see the end. I know even more that I must not give up on Him and rely on my own strength to drag myself into the next chapter of my life, because I have looked my brokenness and weakness in the face and know that I. am. not. enough.

Hm. Perhaps that was the entire point of college.

Lord, please, please, help me do life for you, and do it well, and do it 100%, even if obedience means going from walking to jogging just because you want me to. Not just now, but always.


xoxo jo