A picture of a snow capped mountain range from across a wide lake. The photographer captured the essence perfectly. Tranquility and peace for the moment, the place I’m currently in: sitting on the far shore, possibly in a canoe, facing this huge moment just on the horizon. It looks closer than it seems, which is equally relieving and terrifying. It invokes both peace-of-mind and anxiousness.
“Pick a picture that describes where you are right now.”
I knew it instantly.
“It’s like I can see this huge thing that’s coming, but I’m not there yet. I’m just chilling, waiting for it to come.”
Earlier this school year, and even throughout the summer, I felt so restless. Eager to get real life started, ready to meet my future husband (still looking for you, boo), preparing to pounce on any opportunity to explore a new place.
I wanted to be anywhere but here.
But here is pretty good, I must say.
As I sit in my newfound favorite place in T-town, in a ridiculously comfy chair across from my best friend with a hot chai latte in my hand, I can’t find a thing to complain about. I’d like to pretend every day could be like this one.
Yet I know there will be days like Friday.
Days when I am horribly afraid of what is to come, overwhelmed by the desire to leave, to be anywhere but Tuscaloosa, anywhere but Alabama, anywhere but in my own brain.
But today I’m going to linger in the goodness.
Isn’t God good?
A study I’m currently going through issued a challenge today: find 1000 (yes, a literal thousand) gifts you’re thankful for in this moment. My list begins here: chai latte, this chair, Kelly, cool fall breezes, sunshine, the joy of the Lord.
A second challenge: write down the things you’re looking forward to. Life in NYC, abundant travels, visiting friends in their ~*grown-up*~ lives in their respective cities, marriage, my own family.
All of these things are good and beautiful, but each of them are time-sensitive. The things I have now I won’t have forever. The moments and experiences I look forward to in the future will usher away a lot of what I treasure now. And while this is scary–I’ve never been the biggest fan of change–it isn’t bad. It is good.
And so is now. Now is good; beautifully, wonderfully good.
I have no clue what lies on the horizon, though I have a few suggestions and preferences. But I’m fully aware of what my now consists of, and, for the most part, I love it.
I love the friends who live just a short walk from my apartment door, always available to talk about life, to laugh, to discuss life’s biggest questions. I love my church, a beautiful mixture of college students, families and grandparents, a family rooted in Christ. I love my campus ministry, a faith family of college students who have become my backbone and taught me so much about God’s love and grace. I love my campus, the place I always dreamed of going to school, home to champions of all kinds.
I love this life and I’m not quite ready to give it up.
Yet I’m certain I’ll love the life that will slowly replace this one. But that’s for tomorrow.
Today is pretty great, so I think I’ll stay here and savor it a little while longer.