Last Friday, I turned 25 years old. Believe it or not, I started this silly blog when I was 17. Hard to believe, right?
I was 20 years old when I first arrived to southeast Tennessee. So much has changed in just five years since I moved here. I transferred to a new university, my heart was broken, I got a job at Starbucks, I met George and began to mend my heart… And a lot more. Who knows what will take place before we move back to Seattle in just little over one year from now?
When it hit me that I was actually turning 25, I struggled with the idea a bit. For me, this means I’m completely out of the “relatable” range of those between the ages of 17-22 and can now only relate to people between the ages of 23-29. It’s like every time an 18-year-old girl starts working at Starbucks, the maternal button gets pushed and I get really protective and advice starts spewing forth without restraint! I use phrases like, “I was your age not too long ago!” and “Trust me, I’ve been there! I know what it’s like!” And while they totally respect and honor my “vast” years of experience, they still think their situation is the exception to my rule. Which it isn’t, but…
Regardless, I’ve adjusted to the idea of being 25. I’ve got some good things going for me at the moment, which makes this easier. I’m in my last semester at Lee University! I’m only taking two classes, so compared to past semesters, I feel like I have a lot more time to do things I love. I just got a new lens with birthday money I received–Thanks, Mom!–and I’m looking forward to doing more portraits and engagements. I’m also working out at least 1-2 hours a day and I’m feeling great! I’ve started training for my first 5K and I’m excited to see where that leads. So a lot of cool things!
I still feel like God is far away, but I keep holding on to this hope that one day, we’ll be close again. I take the responsibility of not doing what I should be doing more often–reading my bible, praying, going to church–but I honestly feel like none of those things would help right now. George has been to three different churches in the last month and none of them impressed him enough to want to take me back. More than anything, I wish I could get together every week with a few close friends to just talk about God and the crap we’ve dealt with the past week. There’s something about being broken and meeting with other broken people to submit to our brokenness and ask for God’s help.
I’m in transition. I have been for nearly five years now. And I’m almost ready to accept this period of suspension as a part of who I am. Before, I wanted to get out of this place and forget it ever existed, but as much pain as I’ve experienced here, there’s no way I could forget the things that were good. I wouldn’t even be surprised if I came back to visit.