Can't really see what's ahead...
I took a walk through the park that I’ve been to a million times growing up. I remember going almost every weekend with my daddy to ride my bike or swing on the swings. This park represented two distinct aspects of me that have and are going to change: innocence and dependence. I miss the innocence that I had as a little girl; unaware of the pain that life could cause and unaware of the ways in which I would change. I miss that the greatest issue in life was refusing to share my toys. I miss that as far as I knew everybody loved me and nobody was ever going to leave me. I miss that the greatest choices I had to make were what type of candy at the store I would pick, not which college to go to or the decisions that go along with being in a relationship. I miss it…immensely. And while my innocence isn’t gone completely, a big part of it is. I’m fully aware that pain often accompanies living in this world. That people, no matter how much you think they may support you and stick with you, cannot be depended upon and are free to leave you when they wish. But more than anything, I was reminded of the pain I felt when we lost Zachary. I looked around at the park, wanting so badly to have the opportunity to bring Zachary there and push him on the swings or run around with him in the grass, but that won’t ever happen. In May when we lost him, my perspective on the world suddenly changed; my eyes were opened and my guard went up, because I became aware that pain, while necessary to grow, can also tear you down. And at the same time, at the park I was made aware of how dependent I have become on my family, and how I must learn soon to be my own person and make decisions for myself. College and the road ahead is definitely something that scares me, but at the same time I’m excited for it. I’ve lived in my sheltered world and I feel as though it has inhibited me from truly finding who I am. In the next year though, I feel like I can figure out a little bit more of who I am and who I want to be. I will have to learn to be independent and I will be faced with situations in which my innocence will be tested. Difficult decisions will inevitably come my way as my journey in high school ends and a new one begins, and it would be ignorant of me to say that I won’t be. I am confident, though, that I know enough about who I am that I won’t compromise that. It won’t be easy though, and that’s something I’m fully aware of.
The swings at the park...
Another thing struck me as I walked through my neighborhood: it’s all so familiar to me. I’ve walked the paths I went on a thousand times; I’ve walked that sidewalk to my house a thousand more. I’m the type of person who doesn’t like change at all. It terrifies me. It means being put out of my comfort zone and inserting myself into situations that are unfamiliar to me. When I go off to college, nothing will be familiar to me. I won’t automatically have the close friends to ask advice of. I won’t have my parents to run to if I’m frustrated or confused. I won’t even be familiar with the setting in which my college is. Everything will change. No longer will I have a boyfriend 10 minutes away that I will get to see every morning when I wake up for school. No longer will I have my closest group of friends all within half an hour of each other. No longer will I have the comfort of my bed every night when I go to sleep. While the unfamiliarity scares me, I think it will help me grow immensely. I need it desperately. I’ve always lived in familiar surroundings with familiar people. I need change.
The roads I've walked a thousand times...
Another thing that I really had the opportunity to think about is how the people who matter the most to me will change as we all separate. There’s one in particular that I’ve thought a lot about that probably scares me the most. It is almost certain that we will be hundreds of miles apart. It’ll take a lot of prayer and a lot of trust, but I think that if it’s meant to be it will work out. Aside from that one though, I worry about the girls who mean a lot to me. Some I know will be just fine when college rolls around, but others I worry a great deal about. Some have no desire to mess around in college, others are excited to experiment. I fear for them, because they deserve more respect than they give themselves. It hurts to listen to them talk about their excitement for the negative aspects of college, because they’re better than that. I’m hoping that my friendships will continue through college and that those girls will not compromise who they are for the acceptance of those around them.
Choosing which road to take...
The road before me...
It's finally 2010...
Wow, Amanda-- you totally embraced the purpose of this walk, and your thoughts are beautifully articulated.
ReplyDeleteLast year, on my New Year's walk, I walked from my Grandpa's house to Golden Gardens-- about 11 miles. The year had been brutal and battering, and at one point I had written, "Today I pictured myself as a well, being carved with great cuts deep into the earth-- more room for depths of sorrows, and simultaneous heights of joy. As a child, maybe I just had room for trinkets. Now, I'm afraid there's room for dying stars to find a grave in, and it makes me feel so devastatingly adult to consider what souls must expand for." It sounds like, for you-- Zachary's aching absence was a brutal expansion of that well. And it sounds like next year may very well make the well grow bigger.
But what that means, Amanda, is that you have more room to comprehend the JOYS as well. You will be wiser, you will love more deeply, and the light above you will be that much concentrated.
Anyway-- this walk occurred on a dark, depressing, dreary day. And it occurred after a realization that all the events of the past year had accomplished, if nothing else, a LETTING GO. The year had been too much for my whimpering attempts at control, and I had HAD to fall into our Lord. I had felt like driftwood, being thrown around in the ocean-- but what that meant was that I had let myself become unanchored. And, because of the benevolence of "The Ocean," that was a good thing.
When I got to Golden Gardens, I threw something out into the Sound-- a letter, written to the universe, sealed in a peanut butter jar that had been washed and dried and duct taped shut. I watched the soul scrawlings float away from me, unanchored, and I breathed, and let go.
Living can be brutal, but it can be so beautiful. And He is GOOD. He is so GOOD. The path will unfold, sweet girl, and it will lead you in the direction it needs to. You're right where you need to be.