This could possible qualify as the worst summer of my life. It's been a doozy. I've had so many plans, and none of them have worked out. I'm a planner. I don't carry one, it's all in my head.
I don't get much time to sit around during the school year. I'm usually either studying, working, photographing, traveling, reading, writing, studying, learning, tutoring, going, driving, working, studying...well you get it.
I heard this the other day, "Live each day like it is your last, and it will be." I found it a little troubling, a little astounding. I suppose it is true. I don't take "being still" very well, I'm one that always has to go. I have to be doing something, I cannot just sit. Yet, it is in these moments that I learn most about myself, where I learn most of my heart inside me. It's in solitude where I am able dream. I've been given this season, and I am neglecting it, honestly.
I've been mollycoddled (sweet word) the past few summers. I've been mollycoddled my whole life. Between Honduras, Colorado, California, Michigan, New York, Chicago, Destin, Key West, Georgia, and North Carolina, I havn't had a summer where I have not done anything. It seems my life has become complicated. Of course, I'm not stating traveling equates to complication. I mean, I grew up eating the Choco-O's from the bottom shelf of the cereal aisle. We had tomato soup for dinner sometimes, sometimes grilled cheese, and if we were lucky, some brownies. We never had a big house, rarely went on vacation, my mom had a cutlass. We never went to the movies, I had the same bike until I was 10. My first CD was Clay Walker. Yet, it was so simple. We had eachother. When we didn't have a home, we had eachother. My mom and my sister and my brothers, we were complete. We were happy making fun of eachother and playing scategories all night. My sister can still remember when we got our first TV, and it was black and white.
All that to say this: I've complicated my life, to keep myself busy, and just for the sake of "having things." I always said I wouldn't do that. Maybe it's because I never could. I don't know. I know that through this summer, God has taught me more in a month (when I've listened) than I have learned in a while. I have learned why I want to do what I want to do; being a doctor is more than saving lives, it will mean saving hearts. And, afterall, is stillness so dreadful? Do I have to travel to be happy? Do I have to do something, to be happy? I hope not.
Stay hungry. Stay foolish.