we've almost arrived.

I'm approaching the end of something, but I'm not entirely sure what that something is. Childhood? Sounds odd saying I'm an adult now... It's like, "When did THAT happen? When did I stop being a kid?" But I guess these things don't ever really have a definitive closure... I don't think it's quite the beginning of something new, though; not yet at least. So that places me in a kind of limbo for another week and a half.
I feel very non-existent.
I'm leaving my family. And my room. And my town. I'm not a part of my high school anymore, leaving all those great people (and all the sub-par ones, too) behind for... for what? A new community, a new home, a new school, a new job, a new group of yet-to-be-determined friends.
SIDE NOTE: if you stare at the word 'new' for too long it starts to look like it's not spelled correctly. I'm also starting to question the context in which I've used it. None of these things are actually new. They've been there for quite a jolly good chunk of time; other people have occupied the space I'm headed towards, and been quite comfortable in my figurative to-be-inherited shoes. The only new thing about my rapidly approaching circumstances is... me.

Last night Ali and I went on a walk. In passing my old elementary school, we felt compelled to wander over to the playground and swing for a bit. The conversation was gold; we talked about family, we talked about friends. Life, faith, struggles, joys, and the impending college experiences we're headed in different directions to experience in a matter of weeks. I gave her a fantastic little tour of the Fellows playground which, by the way, is basically the coolest thing ever. It's practically a castle. So, continuing to discuss the complexity of life, we sat up in one of the towers for... an hour? two hours? three? Who knows..

At some point, though, I noted how peculiarly picturesque that particular moment in time was. Sounds like something that should be in a movie, doesn't it? Sitting in your elementary school playground with a dear friend, at the end of your last summer of childhood, about to go off to college for the first time, gazing at the opportunities and lessons ahead, pondering faith and relationships and life. I feel as though that moment is one I'll remember for a real long time.

I'm being weirdly sentimental....

Meh.
The day is drawing nearer.

Romans 6

Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus
were baptized into his death?

We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death,

in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father,

we too might walk in newness of life. 

For if we have been united with him in a death like his,

we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.

We know that our old self was crucified with him

in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing,

so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin.  

For one who has died has been set free from sin. 

Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.

We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again;

death no longer has dominion over him.

For the death he died he died to sin, once for all,
but the life he lives he lives to God. 

So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin

and alive to God in Christ Jesus.

†

sufficient is tomorrow's worry

Sometimes I get scared by the things that scare me.

The full potential of that sentence to convey what I'm trying to get across could very easily be lost in the illogicality of the English language.

Let's try again:

I get freaked out when I take a closer look at the types of things that worry me.

Did you get it that time?

There are silly things and there are not so silly things. For example: I worry about the degradation of my cooking abilities via college enabling me to neglect practice. (Thanks, dining hall...) With that one I'm like, "Aiiiiiight: WHY am I actually worrying about this? What's wrong with me? I feel like cooking is more of a riding-a-bike thing than a using-the-quadratic-formula thing. You don't ever have to re-learn it, it just kind of sticks with you."

But then... I worry about being utterly miserable at college because I'm away from my nieces... My family, my friends, those I love and cherish and don't want to replace... And on this I muse, "There's merit here: this is scratching the surface of a potentially huge problem. If I can't handle being away from these people for a few months at a time, what happens when I study abroad? Student teach in France? Get a job in a town hours away? Marry someone from a different state? I thrive on closeness. I'm passionate about my relationships. Am I setting myself up for a depressed life of pining after those I can't hug every morning and sip tea next to while racing to finish the day's crossword?"

I freak myself out, going on these tangents that carry me off until I have sneaky tears sliding down my face, mourning the idea that my nieces will forget me; that I'm not a sufficient friend, sister, daughter; that I'm incapable of helping others; that I'm too silly or too stupid or too selfish; that I'm not appropriately stewarding God's gifts; that I don't know where the heck I'm going in life and, thus, am wasting the time I've been given, floating around aimlessly without direction or purpose---

But, alas. I'm reminded that none of it is true.

And that worry is a synonym for not trusting God's plan.

And I'm beating this dead, rotting horse more than I can believe, but allow me to say it once more-- because in my insecure, doubtful state I need to be reminded so often: God does have a plan. And I am safest in His hands. He has purpose and direction for my life that is better than anything I could ever dream up. And when I'm feeling insufficient or worried or anxious and don't trust Him, He will gently guide me back into His loving arms and show me that He is all I need.

Matthew 6:

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also... Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

The prayer of a dear friend from this summer:

"Grace... I pray you have spent time in intimacy with God today. I pray you dwell in God's house; that you do not simply visit. Do not be distracted. Be genuine, be present, & acknowledge the temporal quality of your worries. Rest in the continued presence of God. I pray you live intentionally, each moment, for God's glory. Trust that He will be faithful, even if you are unfaithful to Him, for that is His nature... Amen"

sting

"I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made for figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently." -Donald Miller

Correction, growth, refinement. I have this inherent, burning desire to see myself progress. There's a lengthy list of flaws that need to be pruned. I'm prideful. Unkind. Lazy, irresponsible, rude, and above all, selfish. Perhaps you haven't noticed... Perhaps I hide it all quite skillfully. I certainly hope not; I want to be open and vulnerable about my failures, because it's what makes me human, and it's what makes the cross so sweet. As a Christ-follower I can step out of the shadows and reveal my faults; that's when they're washed away. When I'm weak, then I am strong. It's hard, though. I mean, who really wants to shout their flaws from the rooftops? It doesn't sound too terribly appetizing... That gets me thinking, though--- if at any point I'm not willing to openly confess that my heart is rotting in sin from the inside out--- Do I really want to be transformed? When I'm transparent about my sin, it brings glory to God through what Christ is doing in my life. Isn't my silence really just me denying, holding onto that which I don't want to admit or give up? I occasionally have to reassess, then, if that's truly what I'm looking for. I can honestly say that I want change, but I think sometimes I'd prefer if that change wasn't internal. Sanctification is hard: it stings. It's not what we want by nature. It's going against the grain; it's dragging yourself upstream--- against the current--- toward something that, you have to remind yourself repeatedly, is actually better for you. I catch myself desiring change in my life (instead of in my heart) simply because I'm not content with my current circumstances. But I'm not content with the circumstances God has placed me in because of a deeper issue. This world is tainted by sin and will never satisfy any of us-- so where should I be finding my contentment, really?

God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him. 

...reading When I Don't Desire God by John Piper and listening to
Wedding Dress by Derek Webb