Sometimes I look up at the world, and I think, I will never have a moment quite like this one again.
I have been thinking a lot about self-promotion. Right now, sitting behind this keyboard, I am choosing how to present myself to you. If I don’t want you to know that I still bite my nails when I’m nervous, I don’t have to tell you. If I don’t want you to know that I’m terrified that I’m going to kill my plants, I don’t have to tell you. I can sit here and tell you all about the way the sky looks and the fact that my room is clean, and I can airbrush my life to my liking.
As it is, right now I’m sitting in my dorm room in the half-light of a cloudy morning, still in my pajamas at 11:19. There’s one streak of powder blue in the sky, garish against the clouds. It’s a rare moment when I’m not listening to music, and the sound of the wind rushing past cars on the roads around my college is white noise in my ears. And I’m writing this first blog post, wondering over every word I type, knowing I should be working on my capstone right now (sorry, Dr. Marcotte), wanting Vidi to be—I don’t know. Some perfect mix between the vulnerability of my journal and the didacticism of those anecdotal stories they use in sermons. I want you to come away with something, dear reader. I want you to feel the profundity of my thoughts and the quiet wisdom that most people don’t realize is brewing under the surface of my laughter.
But then, will you know all of me? And can I even give you the truest version of me?
A more accurate snapshot is:
My hair is tugged back into a messy bun. I haven’t done laundry, and right now I am actively avoiding my homework, but for once I’ve made my bed. I graduate from college in less than two months, and I am scared that that the community I so love is going to disintegrate. But I’m not feeling particularly angsty or thoughtful today, but I’m good at close reading my surroundings and turning details of my world into metaphors, so I can fake it pretty well. I’m usually loud and exuberant, the biggest goofball in creation, but I also love quiet moments like this one. It is a good but strange duality.
But right now, I’m thinking about the fact that I haven’t eaten breakfast, and it’s probably going to be another cup of tea and maybe a graham cracker. I’m thinking about the fact that I want to pray. I’m realizing that I feel the Holy Spirit murmuring peace to my spirit. The knowledge that not everything is ending, that good things are in store, squirms in my metaphorical hands like a metaphorical fish. There is much to discover.
This time tomorrow I will carry what I’ve learned today. But for now I’m content with you knowing who I am and where I am, this simple Sunday morning.
I will never have a moment quite like this one again.