Sometimes it's okay to cry.
"I've got some sad news, Maryah..." the voice of Stephanie, my college coach, had suddenly gotten that tone in it that I've come to know is reserved only for serious things. Never having met her in person, I can read her voice better than her facial expressions. My first thought was, "Oh no, another course that I took didn't transfer and now I'll need to add yet another three credits onto my already brimming schedule in order to graduate on time." But unfortunately, that wasn't the news.
There are good things to cry about. Important things, actually, that we should cry about.
I'm not very sentimental (usually). And I'm not the type of person prone to teariness simply at the sight of a puppy cuddling with a cat. I've even wished at times that I would cry while watching a movie or reading a book, because maybe then something was truly affecting me, but alas, try as I might, the tears just don't come that easily.
But then there are some things which catch you by surprise. Things like suddenly having to say goodbye when you aren't expecting it. Things like realizing that after a time that you took for granted, life is changing, and now this person that you love so dearly is entering into a new season, without you. These things have their emotional power simply in their suddenness. We get accustomed to something, someone, and then...
"This is our last coaching call," her voice brought the news I had been least expecting. She quickly explained how CollegePlus (the program/organization that I am doing my schooling through) has offered her a full-time job that will not allow time for coaching calls. While excited for her and this new season in her life, I felt so suddenly sad that it caught me off guard, or maybe I had been so caught off guard that it made me sad.
My mind zoomed like a zip-line back to my first coaching call. I was nervous, jittery, a little bit heart-thumpy. I was so young. Fourteen years old, and there I was, starting college work and making decisions that would impact the rest of my life, it's no wonder I was nervous. But having Stephanie along with me each step of the way made all the chaos manageable. For the longest time my family had no comprehension of what it was that I was doing. All they knew was that I was pursuing a bachelor's degree and that I had hardly outgrown my childish fantasies of believing that life is all honey and jam. But Stephanie, she understood, and to this day she'll be the only one who fully understands all the twists and turns that I've encountered on this path called higher-education and living for God.
She'll be the only one who saw my visionary wheels turning as I contemplated diving into video-journalism, or back when I was jumping between becoming a M.D., a N.D., or a D.O. and finally landed on "none of the above". I would "change my life" almost every other call, and she still retained an incredible patience and faith for me.
Yes, looking back, I see how far I've come and how she's helped me and pointed me back to Christ with each overwhelming load of schoolwork that I faced. And now I'm almost done, so close to the finish line, and we had to say goodbye. It's like running a marathon with someone and having them leave at mile 25.3. As we closed in prayer, the catch in my voice was hard to cover-up, but I managed to say goodbye cheerily enough and promised emails that would keep her up to date. But after we'd hung up for the last time, I remained seated where I was against my bedroom wall, huddled in a blanket, and cried.
Obviously it wasn't catastrophic, but that was what made it almost refreshing. Because rather than heartbreak over death, it was simply an awareness of my love for someone and an expression of that love as I realized that our lives are moving and sometimes the people move with us and sometimes they don't.
While sad, it's simultaneously exciting, because I'll get to meet a new coach (one of Stephanie's best friends) and make a new friend for this last stretch of the journey. It also brings an odd hope: life does change, and though it can be sad, it's also an adventure. And just like any good adventure, it will have its ups and its downs, but that's the risk. Will you risk love and life to live the adventure, or will you stay huddled up in your bedroom, underneath that blanket, too sacred to move for fear of hurting yourself or someone else?
Abundant life is here for the taking...the question is, will you take it?
There are good things to cry about. Important things, actually, that we should cry about.
I'm not very sentimental (usually). And I'm not the type of person prone to teariness simply at the sight of a puppy cuddling with a cat. I've even wished at times that I would cry while watching a movie or reading a book, because maybe then something was truly affecting me, but alas, try as I might, the tears just don't come that easily.
But then there are some things which catch you by surprise. Things like suddenly having to say goodbye when you aren't expecting it. Things like realizing that after a time that you took for granted, life is changing, and now this person that you love so dearly is entering into a new season, without you. These things have their emotional power simply in their suddenness. We get accustomed to something, someone, and then...
"This is our last coaching call," her voice brought the news I had been least expecting. She quickly explained how CollegePlus (the program/organization that I am doing my schooling through) has offered her a full-time job that will not allow time for coaching calls. While excited for her and this new season in her life, I felt so suddenly sad that it caught me off guard, or maybe I had been so caught off guard that it made me sad.
My mind zoomed like a zip-line back to my first coaching call. I was nervous, jittery, a little bit heart-thumpy. I was so young. Fourteen years old, and there I was, starting college work and making decisions that would impact the rest of my life, it's no wonder I was nervous. But having Stephanie along with me each step of the way made all the chaos manageable. For the longest time my family had no comprehension of what it was that I was doing. All they knew was that I was pursuing a bachelor's degree and that I had hardly outgrown my childish fantasies of believing that life is all honey and jam. But Stephanie, she understood, and to this day she'll be the only one who fully understands all the twists and turns that I've encountered on this path called higher-education and living for God.
She'll be the only one who saw my visionary wheels turning as I contemplated diving into video-journalism, or back when I was jumping between becoming a M.D., a N.D., or a D.O. and finally landed on "none of the above". I would "change my life" almost every other call, and she still retained an incredible patience and faith for me.
Yes, looking back, I see how far I've come and how she's helped me and pointed me back to Christ with each overwhelming load of schoolwork that I faced. And now I'm almost done, so close to the finish line, and we had to say goodbye. It's like running a marathon with someone and having them leave at mile 25.3. As we closed in prayer, the catch in my voice was hard to cover-up, but I managed to say goodbye cheerily enough and promised emails that would keep her up to date. But after we'd hung up for the last time, I remained seated where I was against my bedroom wall, huddled in a blanket, and cried.
Obviously it wasn't catastrophic, but that was what made it almost refreshing. Because rather than heartbreak over death, it was simply an awareness of my love for someone and an expression of that love as I realized that our lives are moving and sometimes the people move with us and sometimes they don't.
While sad, it's simultaneously exciting, because I'll get to meet a new coach (one of Stephanie's best friends) and make a new friend for this last stretch of the journey. It also brings an odd hope: life does change, and though it can be sad, it's also an adventure. And just like any good adventure, it will have its ups and its downs, but that's the risk. Will you risk love and life to live the adventure, or will you stay huddled up in your bedroom, underneath that blanket, too sacred to move for fear of hurting yourself or someone else?
Abundant life is here for the taking...the question is, will you take it?
Comments
Post a Comment