Who Said

If I have learned anything this school year (besides the fact that the labradoodle is the preferred breed of posh Seattleites), it's that guilt is preposterous. Time spent away from my studies does not mean I should be thinking about the fact I am not being academically productive. My sense of self comes from mentally living in the moment. It makes the days when I am not reading and cramming notes into my brain until my eyes swell completely worth it.

This spring has been exactly what I had hoped it would be, an equal balance of school, work, friends and family. I couldn't imagine a better way to spend my final weeks in the house that has nourished me for the last three years. There have been evening baseball games looking upon sunsets and the Seattle skyline, complete with multiple encounters with a woman preening and photographing her Mariner-outfitted Troll. Saturday mornings have been spent chatting over double espressos and specialty treats (hence that divine buttermilk biscuit filled with marionberry jam) at Macrina on Queen Anne, followed by browsing the local farmer's market. There have been moments of laughter and conversation, and others of simply appreciating the silent presence of another. Above all, there has been the continual recognition of His faithfulness. I am thankful in such a way that cannot be transcribed. The senses overcome me and I am reduced to tears as I fail to comprehend the vastness of love and beauty before me, both worldly and other. 


What do I in seven months when I am released from academia? What do I do tomorrow? Who will walk into my life and who will leave it? Living each day for what it is: that is what having it figured out looks like.