Because I was afraid. I think I still am afraid, but at least I can recognize that for myself, now.
These past four years, I've anchored much of my identity in my activities and skills. This especially ramped up senior year when I practically had to sell myself to colleges and private organizations to make myself an attractive candidate for acceptance and scholarships. Thankfully, this over-exertion -- that I'm disturbingly used to -- paid off, and, by the grace of God, the two jobs I've had this summer have been used primarily to save up for personal expenses since I never want to gruel over buying bus tickets to come back home (My parents are going to forget to scratch Lily's favorite spots. She needs me).
However, I think I thrust myself into two jobs the day after graduation (I'm not kidding) because of another reason that I've never wanted to admit.
I don't think I really know who I am.
If anyone asks me to tell them a little bit about myself, my first reaction is to list off all of the things I do. Speech, band, Key Club, theater, etc. As soon as I graduated, I didn't have those things anymore. And that left me feeling bare. Too bare.
What's ironic is that my address to the class of 2018 drew directly from this topic. And as much as I want to measure my life by the love I show to people, and by the identity I'm meant to have in Christ, this summer h
as felt like a total failure of doing either of those things.
If I'm being honest, I've spent the majority of this summer running away from God. I've spent the majority of this summer running away from rest. Why? I don't want to face myself when I'm not really sure what I'm facing. I don't want to open myself up to idleness and be left with this tormenting feeling that I'm just a shell of skills that don't give me an identity, and I don't want to face the guilt that I have occupied too much of my time with working to give hardly any to God.
Even now, my brain is automatically trying to tell me that college is the perfect destination for me to "find myself," but that just puts me right back at square one: anchoring my identity in my location and my status as a student.
I gauge my worth by molding it into a routine. It's all I've really known. Even when I experienced some of my closest moments with God two years ago, I'm afraid that part of my satisfaction was found in making myself read the Bible in a year according to a fully laid out schedule that was easy to follow as long as I didn't miss a day. There was no spontaneity. In the four walls of my room I connected with Him and no where else. It was an amazing year, but ever since then, I feel as if I've been aimlessly wandering. I don't have a box to put God in anymore, so I run away.
It's a never-ending cycle, and I want desperately for it to end. I just don't know how to put a stop to it.
All I do know is that this summer definitely wasn't the answer. No amount of money can compare to not being able to see your family and friends as much as you want, let alone not being able to get a decent amount of sleep.
And this year, one of my dear friends reminded me that I should write in order to be free. So, I guess this is me freeing myself.
First, I'm afraid of encountering a God who can not be simplified and quarantined into areas where I've grown the most comfortable. And I need to get over that and invite Him into every moment. More importantly, I need to create space in my schedule to have those quiet moments to just be still and soak in His presence.
Second, I have learned some things about myself this summer, if that counts, and I think it just goes to show that there truly is never a meaningless season; God doesn't waste time.
1. I suck at saying no. I can't be a true go-getter if I'm trying to get everything without setting boundaries for my own sanity.
2. I love live music. I even developed an appreciation for country music because I heard it live for the first time this summer.
3. I have an emotional attachment to food that's really unhealthy. I eat cheese curds when I'm happy and ice cream when I'm sad, and I need to learn how to celebrate and face disappointments with Jesus alone.
4. I don't care as deeply for people as I want to. I feel as if I fake being empathetic sometimes, and I wish I could feel more.
5. I will never work two jobs again. At least, not any time soon.
Thankfully, besides classes, I've only committed myself to working as a columnist on Mizzou's student magazine, MOVE, and that's it. I hope to find a church and maybe play in Mizzou's concert or jazz band, but that's contingent on me purchasing my own trumpet which is ... still in the works.
Other than that? I don't plan on thrusting myself into too much at all this first semester. Part of me feels as if I'm missing out, but the other part of me wants to knock myself over the head and shout, "You've been missing out all summer, Katelynn! You have another chance to keep learning more about the world and to learn about yourself in an entirely new environment. And you're going to need as much time and space to relax and process all of these new experiences as you can allow. Don't stretch yourself thin. Again."
I think that may be the Holy Spirit trying to whack some common sense into me. And
I think it's working.
These past four years, I've anchored much of my identity in my activities and skills. This especially ramped up senior year when I practically had to sell myself to colleges and private organizations to make myself an attractive candidate for acceptance and scholarships. Thankfully, this over-exertion -- that I'm disturbingly used to -- paid off, and, by the grace of God, the two jobs I've had this summer have been used primarily to save up for personal expenses since I never want to gruel over buying bus tickets to come back home (My parents are going to forget to scratch Lily's favorite spots. She needs me).
However, I think I thrust myself into two jobs the day after graduation (I'm not kidding) because of another reason that I've never wanted to admit.
I don't think I really know who I am.
If anyone asks me to tell them a little bit about myself, my first reaction is to list off all of the things I do. Speech, band, Key Club, theater, etc. As soon as I graduated, I didn't have those things anymore. And that left me feeling bare. Too bare.
What's ironic is that my address to the class of 2018 drew directly from this topic. And as much as I want to measure my life by the love I show to people, and by the identity I'm meant to have in Christ, this summer h
as felt like a total failure of doing either of those things.If I'm being honest, I've spent the majority of this summer running away from God. I've spent the majority of this summer running away from rest. Why? I don't want to face myself when I'm not really sure what I'm facing. I don't want to open myself up to idleness and be left with this tormenting feeling that I'm just a shell of skills that don't give me an identity, and I don't want to face the guilt that I have occupied too much of my time with working to give hardly any to God.
Even now, my brain is automatically trying to tell me that college is the perfect destination for me to "find myself," but that just puts me right back at square one: anchoring my identity in my location and my status as a student.
I gauge my worth by molding it into a routine. It's all I've really known. Even when I experienced some of my closest moments with God two years ago, I'm afraid that part of my satisfaction was found in making myself read the Bible in a year according to a fully laid out schedule that was easy to follow as long as I didn't miss a day. There was no spontaneity. In the four walls of my room I connected with Him and no where else. It was an amazing year, but ever since then, I feel as if I've been aimlessly wandering. I don't have a box to put God in anymore, so I run away.
It's a never-ending cycle, and I want desperately for it to end. I just don't know how to put a stop to it.
All I do know is that this summer definitely wasn't the answer. No amount of money can compare to not being able to see your family and friends as much as you want, let alone not being able to get a decent amount of sleep.
And this year, one of my dear friends reminded me that I should write in order to be free. So, I guess this is me freeing myself.
First, I'm afraid of encountering a God who can not be simplified and quarantined into areas where I've grown the most comfortable. And I need to get over that and invite Him into every moment. More importantly, I need to create space in my schedule to have those quiet moments to just be still and soak in His presence.
Second, I have learned some things about myself this summer, if that counts, and I think it just goes to show that there truly is never a meaningless season; God doesn't waste time.
1. I suck at saying no. I can't be a true go-getter if I'm trying to get everything without setting boundaries for my own sanity.
2. I love live music. I even developed an appreciation for country music because I heard it live for the first time this summer.
3. I have an emotional attachment to food that's really unhealthy. I eat cheese curds when I'm happy and ice cream when I'm sad, and I need to learn how to celebrate and face disappointments with Jesus alone.
4. I don't care as deeply for people as I want to. I feel as if I fake being empathetic sometimes, and I wish I could feel more.
5. I will never work two jobs again. At least, not any time soon.
Thankfully, besides classes, I've only committed myself to working as a columnist on Mizzou's student magazine, MOVE, and that's it. I hope to find a church and maybe play in Mizzou's concert or jazz band, but that's contingent on me purchasing my own trumpet which is ... still in the works.
Other than that? I don't plan on thrusting myself into too much at all this first semester. Part of me feels as if I'm missing out, but the other part of me wants to knock myself over the head and shout, "You've been missing out all summer, Katelynn! You have another chance to keep learning more about the world and to learn about yourself in an entirely new environment. And you're going to need as much time and space to relax and process all of these new experiences as you can allow. Don't stretch yourself thin. Again."
I think that may be the Holy Spirit trying to whack some common sense into me. And
I think it's working.
Katelynn, I think you are on the verge (maybe you are there after writing this), of realizing that you learned a TON about yourself this summer. From my perspective at least, I don't think it sucked for you as much as you may. You learned some valuable life lessons through it. (And you are kinda hard on yourself.❤️) . Now as you go on to Mizzou you can apply some of what you have figured out about yourself. There are some BIG things about me and my life that I have learned and AM STILL learning since my illness began. While I pray daily for complete healing, I know that the timetable is Gods not mine. And there are things about myself and my life I would have never learned if I wasn't going through the Fire. And that is at almost age 61. So sweetheart - your life lessons and seasons- good and not so hot - will forever continue. Your reflections on what you are learning and thinking are wonderful and so healthy for you. Keep that up and God will carry you through each trial and joy. Love you much!! Auntie Ruth
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