Hermeneutics

I remember several years ago, how excited I would be on the first day of school. I had all of my books stacked neatly on my desk's shelves, everything organized and spotless. My pencils all in a row, being held back by my squat little eraser. Nothing the big kids could say would dampen my soaring spirits and optimistic outlook on the year ahead.

Until the end of the day, when I realized how monotonous it'd be if I did that same day over and over until the end of the year - or even more depressing, until the end of the books, which seemed to get fatter each year.

Last year, I didn't have a first day of school. It was an odd feeling. It was the first time since before I can remember. But I learned more in that year than I ever did pretending to be looking at my Saxon mathbook. And now here I am, at another first. College.

To say I was nervous when I grabbed my keys and headed for HIS 1012 wouldn't really cover it. My stomach felt a lot like it does just before a really long bus trip. It's like my body goes into overdrive the second it realizes I'm in something for the long haul. But it didn't last long. I entered a classroom brimming with excited freshman and I knew I'd be okay. If not because I'd do well in the class, then most certainly because I wouldn't be alone if I didn't.

I didn't leave the classroom for the next three hours, though I did change seats once. I met three professors, two teacher's assistance and learned the definition of a syllabus. I laughed along with one hundred and thirty four people, teared up during my second class and came to the conclusion that there weren't very many places I would have rather been at that moment.

Sometimes, I feel like I did back on the first day of ninth grade. All of a sudden, I was finding out new things like 'oh, did you know colleges see every grade you make from now on?' and 'you have to pass that Chemistry or you'll have to take two sciences next year.' But there's something new added to this equation that I didn't have before.

We were asked to write a ten minute summary of why we were at this particular school during orientation. I only had one answer and it's the same one that got me off of my bed yesterday afternoon and into the kitchen to learn how to use a microwave to cook stove top mac and cheese. God. He put me here and I didn't even notice Him doing it. It all sort of just happened and I found myself questioning it yesterday. But during class, something clicked. Some piece that hadn't fallen into place yet settled inside of me as I cried my heart out yesterday to the only one who could hear me.

I have hobbies. I like to read, I love writing and playing any kind of musical instrument (no matter how badly) makes me the happiest girl in the world. I've never been one of those people who enjoyed doing dishes or mopping floors because it made someone else happy. I'd do it, sure, but it wouldn't fulfill some deep seated need inside of me. But when God asks something of me and then gives me the opportunity to answer Him... I tend to cry a lot. Don't worry, they're healthy tears. It's a link between me and the living God and I can't help but be overwhelmed that He's allowing me to be apart of this.

And yeah, sometimes I lay on a bed and feel completely and utterly at a loss as to what, who and why I am. But that's when He comes and picks us up, dusts us off and pulls us back into His arms where we belong. It's when we're most vulnerable that God can finally get through to us.

So here I am. Learning to look at yet another year of school, not as a chore to be finished as soon as possible, not as an obstacle to be completed before real life can start. But as an opportunity to experience each new day as my last. To live as though I were dying.

To die so that I might live.