Blooming

January 08, 2016

Blooming

Bloom where you're planted.

I'm sure that's something we have all heard of at some point or another.

A reminder to be where you are and to make the best of it, to make where you are beautiful in spite of circumstances.

But if I am honest, sometimes I really don't like where I am planted.

And I don't mean planted in a geographic sense. I mean it more in regards to the phase of life that I am in. I have reached the point that the majority of the year I am on my own at school, making my own choices, and being (for lack of a better term) an "adult." I have a schedule, I have a part-time job, I make my own rules about things, and part of me loves being able to structure it the way I want.

I love the freedom that this stage of life brings, but I also hate just how rife with uncertainty it is. If you were to ask my brother, he would tell you that our little sister is the fun one. I'm a little too regimented for his taste, and I plan things in my sleep. I'm a planner.

Here's a bombshell that I have yet to cope with: I apply to Grad Schools this summer.

Wait, what? How on earth am I already at this point in my life? When did I become adult enough to decide to spend three years of my life somewhere else? Three years living on my own. I don't have a plan for that!

Part of me aches for that season of my life to come quickly.

Part of me wishes it would never come.

All of me isn't blooming where I am planted.

If I am honest, it's so much easier to keep looking for the better soil. Easier to focus on what's coming (or not coming) then it is to focus on what's going on now. It's so easy to bury your head in the sand and convince yourself that what's coming is what is really important.

The future is scary. I'm not talking "I'm afraid of the dark and need a night-light" scary. It's a lot more like "I'm by myself 3 hours from home in my car and my phone died and I have no idea where I am" scary. (That's one of my biggest fears, so if that's not scary for you, you really must be an adult.) Knowing that my life has a postmark and as far as I am concerned it's blank: that is scary.

Somehow I find myself thinking it's easier to cope with the fear of what's to come instead of focusing on what I am doing right now. Instead of aching for a home of my own and a family of my own or a job of my own, how about I think of ways to love and bless my roommate? How can I be present and respectful of my professors? How can I be encouraging and supporting of my pastors? How can I bring a smile to a friend's face? How can I give my classes my best effort? How can I reach my classmates and friends with the gospel? Why can't I do these things instead?

It's hard to be fully present.

Jane Austen wrote "Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings." I don't want that to be my reality. I don't want to continually be focusing on my worry with what's coming that I lose sight of what is happening now. I want to be present. I want to be at hand. To copy a friend of mine: I want to be engaged. (Read her thoughts on the matter here.)

I want to bloom where I am planted, and while I am not completely ignoring the fact that I am not always going to be in this one place, I want to make the best of where I am, while I am here.

The picture at the top of this post is one I took while staffing a camp in Chicago this summer. That trip taught me a lot about being where I am and being all there. I functioned as the organizer for the trip this summer. I planned, I organized, I made lists for everything, and once there I was constantly thinking through having things go smoothly. Because of this, I very nearly missed out on being present there with the kids. I nearly missed out on loving on them, on serving my fellow counselors, on making memories, on being the hands and feet of Jesus. I don't want to make that mistake again. I won't be a busy nothing.

P.S. If you're interested in this camp, here are a few of my favorite photos from the trip, and you should check out New City Church in Chicago.

teaching us the Kemo Step