May 21, 2015.
I’ve always known what was next. I’m a planner. I like to live
by a schedule; it keeps my anxiety at bay. I’ve always known another school
year awaited me in the fall, or parents were eager for me to return home to
babysit their children in the summers. But now I don’t have any of that. I don’t
have any set plans except for a possible job I’m waiting to hear back about, a
dream job of sorts that I’d sacrifice nearly anything for. But until I hear
back I can’t commit to replanting my roots here in Connecticut. Because if I do
and then I’m called away, well, then what? I’d have to sever those baby roots
just as they began to take hold in the soil. But on the other hand, I can’t
just sit around doing nothing while I wait to hear if for some reason someone
saw more potential in me than the other six candidates I’m up against. Because those
chances aren’t necessarily in my favor and if I find out a few weeks from now I
don’t have a job in Massachusetts then I’ve wasted so much time around here. So
what are these days for besides waiting?
The tough part about the waiting game is the inability to
commit. I’ve always been a commitment person. I don’t like breaking
commitments, and in a sense, I commit in order to plan and schedule. People
keep asking me things like, “are you going to Florida to visit your grandfather
in July?” “Are you excited for your trip to Block Island?” “Do you want to go
to a Needtobreathe concert with me in New York in August?” And I keep telling
them the same thing, “I don’t know, I guess I have to just wait to see about
jobs.” I mean, what other answer can I give them? I’m not trying to sound like
I’m entitled to have it all figured out. And I’m not even trying to say that
this is some unfortunate situation I’ve found myself in. Everyone goes through
this time of limbo at some point or another, heck, some people never fully find
their way out of it. I’m just thankful for 21 and a half years without it, not
everyone gets that. So I’m in no way trying to sound spoiled about this, this
isn’t some, “woe is me” cry because I, just like everyone else, can’t make fun
plans because of work (or the prospect of it, at least). I’m just trying to
cope with the lack of control I’m experiencing.
I suppose this season is one that will teach me to be more
flexible, more malleable. I tend to get a little too rigid, a little to
structured. I suppose this season is one that will grow me into a more patient
person. I tend to be a little more impatient than most. Maybe I’ll become more
capable of enduring long periods of unknowns. Maybe I’ll be to adapt to
changing circumstances. In some way or another I know God is growing me and
maturing me through this. I just didn’t realize how desperately uneasy I’d be.
My appetite isn’t the same, my stomach is in knots, and I feel oddly lethargic.
It’s as if every bit of my normally peppy disposition has been drained and replaced
with the character of a student mid finals week. I can’t say I saw this much
unease coming, but I can tell you it’s not all that fun…
…but the waiting game is never fun. It’s never ideal. It’s
never something people long for, especially me. But I’ve got to hear back
sooner or later about this job. If I get it I’ll be elated. If I don’t, well I
have a back up plan – one that includes taking a few months to just relax, so
that isn’t half bad. But until then, until I know for sure either way, I’ll
wait, as patiently as I can, and endure living in limbo. Maybe I can even learn to enjoy it. Maybe I can learn to find beauty in these days that don't seem to matter much more than their waiting, because in reality, they do matter. And even though I don't have it all figured out, that's okay, it's just a part of the journey.
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