" What a wonderful thought it is that some of the best days of our lives haven't happened yet…." Terror struck in the class of eighth grade when Mrs. Taylor would give you... the glare. As her glasses lowered to disclose those wrathful eyes, she asked, "Why did you forget your homework??"
The first year… the beginning… the unravelling…
" Amas, amas, amat…" the class recited, yet it was really a mumble in exception to Mr. Carter who preferred latin opera to sing in class. I could remember my passion, the fervor to do more than what was expected, to be the best… to scratch those unnecessary accents across their appropriate conjugates, to shuffle crisply through the overflowing flashcards of vocabulary…
What was success? What was worth remembering? What was worth leaving behind?
The second year…the conflict…the searching…
"To be, or not to be, that is the question…" Hamlet's Soliloquy seemed to reflect my freshman year. Was I going to endure the pain of hating my class or was I going to easily give up?
With the attempt of a British accent, I exclaimed the statement as I slashed my prop-dagger,
"For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love…
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?"
I was tempted to hate… to swing that sword ragingly in my heart and not be grateful for what I had. In my Omnibus class, I remember writing the quote,
"I have been careful, and I have been patient, but it's growing worse and worse; flesh and blood can't bear it any longer; – every chance he can get to insult and torment me, he takes. I thought I could do my work well, and keep on quiet, and have some time to read and learn out of work hours; but the more he sees I can do, the more he loads on.[. . .] I have been kicked and cuffed and sworn at, and at the best only let alone; and what do I owe? I've paid for all my keeping a hundred times over. I won't bear it. No, I won't!" he said, clenching his hand with a fierce frown. (3.18, 22)
In Uncle Tom's Cabin, George Harris’s suffering as a slave is almost unbearable, yet, there was a time to be patient, and a time to follow his gut. This was the time for me to be patient, to keep counting blessings and seeking His presence.
How long to wait? Where is the light in this dark uncertainty?
The last years… The best years… The dawn…
I walked into Trinity Lutheran Church. I'm with the big kids now. And there on the board, the new teacher swirled pink cursive writing, " WORLD HISTORY" and there might have been her signature flower next to it. No one entered without receiving her hug, her welcoming eyes, and her warm bright smile. This was Mrs. Fountain. Every week, we filled the timeline more and more with historical events, and further saw scriptural evidence and principles fall in line. She taught us a pattern in history,
" Out of chaos, comes a leader…."
Junior and Senior Years were a bit chaotic. I was very impatient for God to open the door of discovery for my future, my pathway to "success". My body was not only sick. My soul was sick.
I was not counting my blessings, I was counting my shortcomings.
Yet, out of chaos came a leader.
Christ.
In Anatomy, I watched my teacher start class every day with a smile on her face. Anatomy. The subject that really didn't make sense. It talks of structure but in the real world- chaos. The teacher talked of her illness again. Brave. Unfazed. Auto-immune, the body fighting against itself. How does she win?
She already has. Our anatomy does not define us, but rather the Creator. The One who's incomparable power and sovereignty does not make sense to us, simply because we are not Him. The One who's unconditional love paid the debt for sin to eternal life does not make sense to us simply because we can't fathom the depth of His love.
There is so much chaos, but only one leader.
There are so many questions, but only one answer.
Christ.
My last years in equip were the best because I saw Christ more and more and me less and less. I could not have asked for better classmates. From Izler's debates on blind faith to Morris's worship of Arnold Schwartzanegre to Rios's journey to his dream job at H & M, to Erin's 'squinty' store in economics, to Ana's love of crude drawings of Fyodor Karamazov, to Brianna's epic drawings of hell, to Iballe's peacemaking skills, to the Russian's crazy intelligence, to Marissa's unfailing use of "hi.",and to my endless laughter at nothing,
As we grew together, I was able to see us all able to express our thoughts and beliefs more freely. It's crazy to think that this is merely the beginning of our growth.
"There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind…" -CS Lewis
No matter what I do with my life, Christ is my success, for everything that I left behind, and everything that is to come- It's all Him and His grace.
And now, I choose to sing amidst the chaos to follow the melody lines of Christ…
" Leaving everything that lies behind,
Straining forward on the road ahead,
I press on for the upward call in Christ-
And when I fall, I trust, you'll pick me up again."
The best is yet to come.