I have two weeks left before the graduation service in the Kibbie Dome at the good ole U of I two hours south of where I am currently residing. That blows my mind. I can't believe this journey is almost over. In August of 2008 I was a 17 year old baby, just moved out of the house and into a dorm room and around 8:20 on a warm summer morning I was about headed to English 101 - the first college class I would ever attend.
The sidewalk was full of life. Students bustling to their morning classes, starting off the school year with a bang. I remember walking in the sea of people and thinking that each and every person I passed knew I had just graduated high school and that I didn't belong there. It was almost as if I was trying to fool myself. My stomach was a ball of emotion - nerves, excitement, and that feeling that if I stood still and locked my knees that I might just faint.
With time it got easier. I started to feel comfortable with my life, with being on my own. I could make my own decisions, I was responsible for only myself. My last few semesters down in M-town I was starting to come into my own. And then it was time to leave.
I don't think I've ever wanted to stay at school more in my life. Pulling myself out of that environment, away from people I knew and loved, and starting a new adventure was enough to make my stomach turn and my mind try to convince myself that I didn't want to teach, actually. I briefly considered changing majors again so that I would have to stay in Moscow, but ultimately I made the decision to follow through with student teaching and I begrudgingly packed up my tiny apartment and moved back in with my parents.
That alone brought on a whole new brand of problems and experiences in my life. Moving back into the house with my parents and siblings proved to be a tough assignment and more than once I cried and wished for the millionth time that I could have just stayed in college. It was an interesting transition, but it's all a part of growing up. Learning to make my own choices and reforging a relationship with my parents where I am an adult and not a child. It is a long process in which one or both parties wants to shoot the other one while simultaneously hugging them and holding on tight while also resisting the urge to pull out all their hair.
But then, everything in my path has led me to where I am now. My relationships, good and bad, have brought me to this place. God has had his hand on my life and He has never left my side, even when I didn't make the choices that I should have. And so, here I am. Two weeks left. One journey is ending and another is beginning. A wave of transition, that honestly feels more like a full blown ocean sometimes.
Scary and exciting. Overwhelming and thrilling. A new beginning. A career instead of an education. A life with a retirement fund and life insurance instead of coffee drinks and homework. A future full of adventures I have never been on and undiscovered possibilities.