Thoughts on Rice Paper

On Fast-Approaching Endings

GRADUATION PICTURES ARE BLOWING UP MY FACEBOOK.

It’s that season, y’all.  And I am SO proud of my friends.  This is the year that I was “supposed” to graduate, but as you likely know, I’ve extended my time in undergrad a year.  I’m really happy for it, though I would have loved to graduate at the same time as so many of my high school friends.

But that’s not really the point of this post.

Focus, Colleen.

So…with all these pictures and statuses and future plans littering my newsfeed, naturally graduation is on the brain.  And you know what’s crazy?

I only I have one more year.  

How is it possible that four years have already passed?  And yet, I have learned so much, traveled like it was my job, and experienced some of the most horrible and wonderful things of my life.  Without the misery that was my freshman year, I wouldn’t be writing in joy from a little town in South Carolina.  I doubt I would be a Chi Omega.  It’s highly unlikely that I would have found my whole-hearted passion for Student Affairs.  Who knows what else would be different, but it would be.  I can’t imagine my life being any different or any better than what is has become.  Than who I have become.  

Cause guys, guess what??

I love myself again.  

I can’t wait to continue this amazing journey that higher education has been.  I so excited to be pursuing a career where I will get to continually experience that journey with students.  

But mostly, I can’t believe that I’ll already and finally be graduating in a year.  I’m thrilled.  I’m terrified.  I’m sad.  I can’t wait to take bittersweet pictures with my sisters and friends and family.  I can wait to pack up all my stuff again, but I’m so excited for the next adventure.  But mostly, I am so proud of what I’ve been making out of this journey and I can’t wait to wear all the graduation bling I didn’t get in high school.  Stoles and cords and I will be best friends ‘cause I EARNED them.  YUS.

Basically?  College has been fan-freaking-tastic.  Endings are a part of life.  While they are always bittersweet, this one will have so much sugar it hardly seems fair.  To all the friends and family who have helped me get to where I am, thank you.  I owe you so much. And yes, I know I still have a year.  But let’s be real: we all know the year is going to fly by.

Until then?  LIVING IT UP!

On Easter and Faith

We’re all familiar with the fact that I’m not one born with extraordinary faith.  As my pastor put it this morning “I like doubts and questions almost more than chocolate”.  And it’s true!  I think a sign of faith used well means asking all the questions you can find, and being okay having them.  It means using the brain we are blessed to have.  But at times, the doubts and questions can eat at your faith where it feels like there’s nothing left but those questions.

That’s where I was three years ago.  I was finishing my freshman year of college at a school I hated.  The cat I had had for seventeen years- the only friend who came with me every place I had traveled physically or mentally- had died a year before.  I was thousands of miles from the ground I wanted to live on and from the people I most wanted to be with.  Worst of all, my heart had been utterly broken weeks before, and I hit the lowest point of depression I had ever known.

As I sat in an Easter Vigil at an unfamiliar church listening to prayer after prayer, I tuned out.  I came more out of habit than desire.  Had it not been for the mention of my coworkers, I would have missed Easter altogether, church being so far from my mind.  But there I sat.  And there the doubts and questions and depression gnawed at me.

 Externally, I’m sure I looked mostly normal, if a little tired.  After all, I was only sleeping an average of four hours a night.  But inside, I was waging war.  I was crying out to God, asking Him why He had taken the only things that had kept me going.  I ached for my losses and didn’t understand why I was so desperately alone.  I begged Him to give me a sign that He was there; I demanded reasons to believe.  I didn’t understand why it was so hard for Him to show me proof that He was there.  After all, He is all-powerful, isn’t He?

The battles went on for around twenty minutes.  I thought back to the arms that had held me only a few weeks earlier, and the promises made.  I remembered the love and joy I had known.  And as I remembered all the joy, grief set in even stronger.  As I was rocked with a new wave of sorrow, I bent forward and held myself, praying harder than I ever had.  I was angry, damnit!  Why me?  Were my mistakes deserving of such a punishment?  Once again, I turned to my questions and…suddenly I was struck with laughter.

Laughter?  At such a time?  It didn’t make sense, but there it was.  My heart was still crying, but it was more of a blubbering mess, since I couldn’t quite register the mix of the two emotions.

You see, in my desolation and pleas, I suddenly made a realization: I wouldn’t be begging God for proof of His existence if I didn’t believe He existed already.  

In that moment, nothing else mattered.  I still hurt.  I was still broken.  But I wasn’t alone.  I made it through the rest of the service and decided that it was time to go back to church.  It was time to make a change, and I was the one who had to do it.

I decided to transfer.  That summer, I started making my plans.  That fall, I became a regular attendee at the church I had visited on Easter.  I worked with the youth and sang with choirs at school.  I started a mentoring program to help similar freshmen make it through their first year with some kind of built in support.  A year later, I packed up and moved to the other side of the country.  

Three years after that profound Easter vigil, I sit in my quaint apartment in South Carolina.  My new cats lie lazily in the sun and the house smells like bleach I just cleaned with.  Flowers I planted are blooming in the garden, and my room is filled with joyous moments and memories from all the places I have been since college began.  And this morning I got to sing Beethoven’s Hallelujah Chorus from the Mount of Olives with the most wonderful church choir I’ve ever known.  

I’ve come to the conclusion, three years later, that Easter is my favorite holiday.  The days leading up to are days of reflection and spiritual pondering.  It may be a hard journey, but come Easter morning, the sun is shining and I am reminded that the journey led me here.  Where the Christmas frost froze the bulbs out of necessity, the lilies are now blooming and the color and joy are on display for the world.

On this Easter, I hope you find that which needs resurrection in your own life.  I hope you take time to be warmed by the sun, and I hope you get the chance to appreciate the delicate beauty of a flower.  I hope you are filled with a faith that carries you through the darkest winter into the brightest of springs.  Whomever you may be, I hope you know love this day.