It's been a year and a half since I've last written, and so some much things has have changed.
This morning, I woke up before sunrise to my dog, Rosie, climbing into bed with me. She does this every morning, and I usually let her outside, crawl myself back into bed, and then fall fast asleep for a few more hours.
This morning, I couldn't fall back to sleep at all.
I've been so anxious and cranky lately. I suppose I'm in that place that most 20-somethings find themselves: wondering what exactly it is they're going to do with their lives.
I look around myself and feel so behind the curve. Most of my best friends have graduated and have full time jobs now, or are working on Master's degrees, and I'm still stuck in this undergraduate faze, puzzling about whether or not it's ever going to amount to anything... wishing I would grow up... feeling inferior because I haven't yet.
So, I got out of bed at sunrise this morning and did some thinking and some praying.
I keep panicking that I'm going to miss my "calling." I've imagined that my "calling" is something huge and exciting and world changing and dangerous and awe-inspiring, and that someone's going to write a book about it someday -a book that may even inspire a film! Maybe I'm going to write the book... and star in the film! (On that note, I better start writing more, and take acting lessons, and learn to juggle saws, because if I don't I'm going to miss my calling.)
...
So, this morning when I got out of bed at sunrise and did some thinking and some praying, it dawned on me that maybe my calling is really much more difficult (read much more simple) than all of that. Maybe my calling is to do all of the little things I'm doing right now whole-heartedly, to discover the excitement that is in the day-to-day. All of that excitement that I've been ignoring because I'm too busy looking out for the next big thing, the day my life truly begins.
Upon reaching this new level of awareness, I did something drastic.
I stood up, stretched, put on some shorts, and finally picked up the dead weeds from the front yard.
This morning, I woke up before sunrise to my dog, Rosie, climbing into bed with me. She does this every morning, and I usually let her outside, crawl myself back into bed, and then fall fast asleep for a few more hours.
This morning, I couldn't fall back to sleep at all.
I've been so anxious and cranky lately. I suppose I'm in that place that most 20-somethings find themselves: wondering what exactly it is they're going to do with their lives.
I look around myself and feel so behind the curve. Most of my best friends have graduated and have full time jobs now, or are working on Master's degrees, and I'm still stuck in this undergraduate faze, puzzling about whether or not it's ever going to amount to anything... wishing I would grow up... feeling inferior because I haven't yet.
So, I got out of bed at sunrise this morning and did some thinking and some praying.
I keep panicking that I'm going to miss my "calling." I've imagined that my "calling" is something huge and exciting and world changing and dangerous and awe-inspiring, and that someone's going to write a book about it someday -a book that may even inspire a film! Maybe I'm going to write the book... and star in the film! (On that note, I better start writing more, and take acting lessons, and learn to juggle saws, because if I don't I'm going to miss my calling.)
...
So, this morning when I got out of bed at sunrise and did some thinking and some praying, it dawned on me that maybe my calling is really much more difficult (read much more simple) than all of that. Maybe my calling is to do all of the little things I'm doing right now whole-heartedly, to discover the excitement that is in the day-to-day. All of that excitement that I've been ignoring because I'm too busy looking out for the next big thing, the day my life truly begins.
Upon reaching this new level of awareness, I did something drastic.
I stood up, stretched, put on some shorts, and finally picked up the dead weeds from the front yard.
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