In the meantime...
I've been thinking a lot about blogging lately because, for the first time in my life, I feel as though I may have something worthwhile to say. Or perhaps I'll never have anything worthwhile to say, so I might as well just continue filling this little niche of cyberspace with my musings. The way I understand life has drastically altered over the past year... two years... five years... ten years. It's interesting to look back and see where I was in comparison to where I am now.
Where am I now?
Plunging full-force into my major for the first time has been refreshing, albeit challenging. I had a somewhat lengthy conversation with one of my professors who has really guided me through the process, Dr. Peer. Somehow our discussion about my honors thesis turned into a dialogue about life in general. Funny how that happens. Over the course of our exchange, I came to a startling paradigm shift.
Becoming an adult doesn't mean having all the answers. Becoming an adult means learning to ask the right questions, then dedicating the rest of your life to seeking out solutions. From what I can tell, many of life's probing questions (if not all of them) won't necessarily be answered in the way or time we expect. The most important thing is to have the faith that answers do come.
Which brings me to my discussion about finding peace and happiness. When? I keep asking myself. When will I cease living in the shadow of a personal tragedy? I know everything will be okay in the end, as so many people have consoled me over the past month. But what do I do in the meantime?
"That's it!" Dr. Peer exclaimed. "You have it figured out. Life isn't about waiting for things to be okay tomorrow. It's about what on Earth we're supposed to do in the meantime! You are such a wise young lady."
"Wait... but... I don't have the answer."
"You don't need it," he smiled. "You have the right question. Now go work on it."
As I walked out of the conference room, I felt overwhelmed with a burden of responsibility. Here is someone who has more faith in me than I have in myself. Here is someone who ventured to call me "wise beyond my years" when I feel like little more than a country bumpkin who doesn't understand her life anymore than she understands nuclear physics.
I briskly walked to the nearest bathroom and cried. I prayed and thanked Heavenly Father because I felt like an old prayer of mine had been answered in His divine timetable and in His mysterious way.
Where am I now?
Plunging full-force into my major for the first time has been refreshing, albeit challenging. I had a somewhat lengthy conversation with one of my professors who has really guided me through the process, Dr. Peer. Somehow our discussion about my honors thesis turned into a dialogue about life in general. Funny how that happens. Over the course of our exchange, I came to a startling paradigm shift.
Becoming an adult doesn't mean having all the answers. Becoming an adult means learning to ask the right questions, then dedicating the rest of your life to seeking out solutions. From what I can tell, many of life's probing questions (if not all of them) won't necessarily be answered in the way or time we expect. The most important thing is to have the faith that answers do come.
Which brings me to my discussion about finding peace and happiness. When? I keep asking myself. When will I cease living in the shadow of a personal tragedy? I know everything will be okay in the end, as so many people have consoled me over the past month. But what do I do in the meantime?
"That's it!" Dr. Peer exclaimed. "You have it figured out. Life isn't about waiting for things to be okay tomorrow. It's about what on Earth we're supposed to do in the meantime! You are such a wise young lady."
"Wait... but... I don't have the answer."
"You don't need it," he smiled. "You have the right question. Now go work on it."
As I walked out of the conference room, I felt overwhelmed with a burden of responsibility. Here is someone who has more faith in me than I have in myself. Here is someone who ventured to call me "wise beyond my years" when I feel like little more than a country bumpkin who doesn't understand her life anymore than she understands nuclear physics.
I briskly walked to the nearest bathroom and cried. I prayed and thanked Heavenly Father because I felt like an old prayer of mine had been answered in His divine timetable and in His mysterious way.