I miss being six...
Get up, brush your teeth, go to school, do your homework, watch tv, go to bed, repeat. That was my life. All was good and normal and routine. Then I hit high school, where I could do whatever I wanted (within reason of course), and yet still had to answer to my parents at the conclusion of each day. Then, welcome to college, where one can usually do whatever one wants, only I get the privilge of attending a school more rigid than home ever was. Yet, there was more freedom to find and experience, and I can practically do whatever I want whenever I want. With graduation and real life lurking it's ugly head around the corner, I am faced with the question every college student fears, what next? People talk about God's will and just "knowing" what to do every day. That's impossible to know 100% for sure when it comes to the rest of your life. Sure, the Bible gives us all the advice we need for the big picture. Follow Christ, love the Lord with all your heart, love your neighbor as yourself. Ok, so that means I'm supposed to work where? That means I'm supposed to go to grad school? Law School? Marriage? Single? Find me the First book of Elizabeth and show me what chapter I'm on. Anyone, Anyone? Bueller? Seriously, I've never been so out to sea in my life. Now befor you go one and post a comment which says flippantly to not worry about tomorrow, I'm not talking about tomorrow and months from now. I'm worried about later today. The little decisions I make are framing who and what I am becoming on a daily basis. Blue socks or Black socks? this decision alone carries with it thousands of tiny consequences. Think I'm being ridiculous? Think about it. Maybe by wearing my black socks, I want to avoid the salt on the sidewalk and walk through the gym instead. In the back hallway I meet a friend I haven't talked to in awhile and we begin chatting about mutual friends. That person gives me bad news about one particular friend of mine. I call someone else and find out that it's true, one of my friends messed up his life royally and is now in prison. Then, I ask myself, Should I have worn the blue socks? They don't show salt so much. I would have been in the dark. Would that have been better? So you see, I wish I was six. Mom picked out my socks.
posted by Liz @ 5:49 PM
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