exhausted and hopeful

Last week, I had planned to dip a toe into the sadness that spread out in front of me. Well, not to just dip a toe. To slide into and soak in until I got all pruney. I was pretty sad. Depressed, even. And so I cried in bed, lavishly allowing myself to dwell in the rich misery that I thought was my reality. I am a little kid. I don’t have a job and no one wants to hire me. I have barely any friends at home. This was the worst summer ever. I don’t know what I’m doing. This is high school all over again. Wah wah wah. I wanted God to know how miserable and drained I was. Instead I fell asleep and woke up much more human. But still depressed.

It’s surprised me, really, how drained and depressed I was after the summer. (That’s another private conversation we could have over coffee sometime.) It’s been very humbling to finally be honest with myself about who I am: that I’m not as much of a go-getter as I want to be, that I’m not as kind as I think I am, that I really am very lazy most of the time without structure and incentives, that I am politically clueless, that I am much more emotional than I am logical, that apart from good community I close up and become bitter. This personality stripping/cleansing is just as painful as it is gruesomely fascinating, like squeezing pus out of a wound. It needed to be done, and I am curious as to what God will say to me now that I’m listening.

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So ever since I got home 10 days ago, I’ve been walking my dog, making fancy healthy meals with my family (and going to the town health food store to get organic goodies!!), and staying in touch with old friends. There are piles of boxes that I must go through of old high school clothes and papers, and I feel really accomplished if I go through one. I’ve writing many many many cover letters, playing around with the wording until I am sick of finding new ways to say leadership, initiative, detail-oriented and passionate. I have tried to apply to a new job every day, which is akin to saying “I am going to hunt down and slay a dragon every day” or “I am going to run a marathon every day.”

This could’ve all been very lonely and depressing had I still been mopey. I need to tell you what dragged me out of my sadness. I went to Hillsong NYC with Kevin. The amazing service was all about hope, which was what I was unconsciously groping around for. The answer to my sadness was Jesus.

(DUH.)  

Then I went out to a diner with 11 strangers. (I had forgotten how fun it can be to get to know new people when you actually put your heart into it.) I took the 1 up to Redeemer and loved hearing old Christ Pres hymns played on a saxophone. After the service, I randomly ran into two Grove City alums, one of whom I was in a musical with, and the other is on a podcast I listen to. One offered advice for the job/apartment search and the other got my number so I could sit with them next week.

I practically floated up to the coffee hour after they left, and just when I didn’t think anything could get better, I met a friend of my mom’s from seminary. She passed my name along to someone she knew at an organization I respect and admire, and I am now lined up to have a meeting with someone there in a week to discuss possible job/volunteer opportunities. The friendliness of everyone I interacted with on Sunday touched me deeply in the sadness and hopelessness I had wrapped around myself. It was a subtle metamorphosis, but by the time I got home, I was beaming. Life was not as horrible as I had thought.

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Since I’ve left Grove City, I haven’t had too many important deep thoughts worthy of sharing. I’ve honestly just been really, really tired. I enjoy life beyond college, like going to the Y and working out with my dad, cooking, watching movies, talking with my mom, tuning my mandolin, being here to experience daily life with my two younger brothers. It’s not exciting or glamorous. But I think for me, being glamorous and exciting isn’t the right goal anymore. The key to happiness and contentment is a properly-adjusted sense of place in the universe, not needing to be astronomically important or valuable. Not needing to be very wise, very well-informed, very beautiful, very correct. Not needing to be the self I sometimes imagined I was, constructed out of my Pinterest boards and all these damn cover letters. I’m beginning to be okay with simply being me because I exist, away from the competition, busyness and sometimes unwelcome intimacy of college. Life is actually lovely. I’m sitting here writing in my basement on a Friday night. Would that have depressed me a few months ago? Yes. Does it today? No. I hope that means that I might be growing up. I’m content here, and that in itself is a gift.

If you think that I will stop here, though, you clearly have not read much of this blog before.

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I am here at a bigger crossroads than ever before. Mary Oliver, in her lovely book of poetry that accompanied my insomnia until 3am last night, asked me to tell her “what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?” WELL I DON’T KNOW MARY OLIVER I’M KIND OF WORKING ON THAT.

Because I am addicted to and motivated by goals, I enjoyed filling out a goal sheet at the Refuge two weeks ago. The goals part was fun. But then there was a section that asked me what my dreams and passions were, what the desires of my heart were. I can’t articulate or even find my answers…oh dear. I have my work cut out for me in these next weird and awesome months. Wendell Berry, bless him, said it better:

It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.

I am off to sing. Til later.