She says that beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up. And it will…
Hope Floats is one of my favorite sad-happy movies. It’s a bit like Steel Magnolias–if I’m in a good mood, I should never watch either of them–but if I’m feeling a little melancholy, throw it in the DVD player, let the tears fly, and in the midst of crying and laughing (sometimes at the same time) there seems to be some relief.
This is how I feel about graduation. On the one hand, excited. And in many ways, it seems very, very, very…surreal. i feel like I’ve been in school forever. And, I guess, technically, I have been. But I also feel like I’ve been at Beeson, well, forever. I don’t remember what life was like without Hebrew translations and book reviews and papers and exams and constant studying. So, I’m excited to journey and to find out what this new life will hold in those regards. I’ll finally get to finish Narnia. I’ll be able to write more–for fun, and maybe even for exchange for payment (which is a new and exciting stage in the world of writing for me, trust me). I’ll get to spend my Sunday afternoons sitting on the couch, watching Friday Night Lights or doing whatever I want, instead of agonizing over my latest term paper.
But, on the other hand, I feel like I’ve been at Beeson forever. I don’t really know life outside of divinity school. And so that means, with the difficult things (like school), there are also very good things I will miss dearly. Mentor groups, and impromptu lunches on the quad, and laughing in the library with Hayden, and goofball moments in class with Christy, and Tuesday chapel lunch, and even chapel, and especially “For All the Saints,” and maybe even writing papers and doing research, a little (because I’m a nerd), and probably even class and theological discussions and, well, most of all…the people. The students, and the professors, and the staff. I’m really going to miss them. It’s hard for me to say that, because I thought I’d never find community the way I had found it in Columbia, especially since I go to school with a lot of boys. Because for a time, I even thought I was going to move and that this would be a lonely, empty place. But it hasn’t been, and I was wrong. It’s been so full, and so sweet. And I’ve made some wonderful friends, and we’ve talked about difficult, and hard, and true things, and shared life together–even the not-so-pretty stuff. And that, my friends, is not something easily left behind.
The ending is sad. But all of it–not just the middle–has been pretty special. i want to soak up this next day and every moment that is left, and to find myself at a place of thankfulness, in praise to the Lord for his goodness, even in the sadness. There is good. There is accomplishment. There is something next (even if it’s unclear to me, and even if that seems pretty scary). And these last four years have been a true testament to how good and faithful and true and kind my Father really has been. It’s been sweet. I think it’s supposed to be a little sad too.