These days, I don’t bother with formalities in emails to my adviser. Most of them begin with a simple, “AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” and end with “ADVISE ME!!!!”
It’s the second semester of sophomore year and, if you haven’t figured out, I’m not handling it well. It’s just me, the classic college student: tired, hungry, overwhelmed, dying. I know I’m not alone as I, distressed and disgusted, try to crawl toward the finish line of the semester – and we aren’t even through January.
Sometimes when I feel like I have a little free time to treat myself, I sit in my room with the door locked, blinds closed, and lights off, removing as much stimulus as possible. It’s my attempt to forget all the nasty that’s out there.
Everyone goes through times of transition, and of course Hesston College understands some of my woes. Looking ahead to next school year, the class of 2017 won’t be here anymore, but there will be a new flock of freshmen and a new president to welcome to campus. I’ll be at some other institution (Goshen??? EMU??? Clown College???) trying to find my way around and my place to fit in. These things are scary for everyone.
But how convenient is it that Hesston College picks a theme verse every year, and how convenient that it addresses some of the very worries that are making me send frenzied emails to my adviser. Being a place that knows transitions so well, it’s not surprising that change is at the heart of the theme verse:
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
“Guess what, Kristin!!” I say to myself, “you are okay! Jesus loves you and he doesn’t want you to die or cry or puke!! Just shut up and stop worrying about things all the time!!!”
Instead of seeking comfortable places to cry or puke while sending frantic emails, I need to start seeking God. He knows what He is doing even if I don’t know what I’m doing (which I don’t, I can guarantee).
The next email I send to my adviser will just be four words: “I’m figuring this out.”