I like writing. But I don’t like writing as much as I like other things.
(Things: Eating, Singing, Talking, Reading. You, probably.)
I write, when I write, not because I’m compelled by an overwhelming need for the written word, but by an overwhelming need to express myself in a way that I feel can be understood. If I can only find that through writing, then I write. Evidence: how I almost never ‘finish’ (or at least sustain) any writing project. It’s not just laziness (it’s partly laziness), it’s lack of motivation. When I can find an outlet more easily elsewhere, I take it.
So when I came to Daegu, I knew how badly I would need to express certain things, and I knew how much I would need something I could focus on successfully, and could, to an extent, control: therefore I blogged a lot. I needed to. It was catharsis and adjustment.
After over a year and a half in Daegu, when I need catharsis and adjustment, I have Really Good People I can talk to (I collect those). I have extracurricular activities and commitments and friendships and so many other ways to keep my life in good, solid perspective: therefore I haven’t blogged since January.
Of course, there is a reason why, tonight, when there are many other things I could and should be doing, I’m writing this post.
In a few months I’ll be moving on to something new (though still, to my surprise, Korea). I’ve prayed and filled out applications and interviewed and scanned documents and it’s all becoming very real. And I don’t know what it’s going to look like or what I’m going to do or how I’ll feel about it when I’m there. This is when I need to write. This is when I need to put words down in order, and watch paragraphs grow. And, too, watch them end.
Korean students still say hilarious, outrageous, touching, crazy things. I’m still eating food that I cannot generally identify. New experiences and new challenges arise on a weekly (daily, hourly) basis, and that hasn’t changed since the writing stopped. These are things I’ve grown easy with. I take them in stride. I don’t notice them as readily as I once did. But the coming upheaval, sometime in the next five months, will ensure that once again, I’ll be noticing everything. Once again, everything will be new and out-of-focus and contextless.
I’ve known this for some time. But tonight I’m a little overwhelmed by the bittersweet of it. So many good things to leave behind and so much to anticipate. Strangest of all, the good (so much) that won’t end in five months, things that are good now that will carry over to be good then. What will it all look like when I get there?
I don’t know.
The temptation is to try as hard as I can to project what that future will look like: to number the days left and analyze every imaginable outcome, spending more time and energy analyzing my life than I do living it. Expending more energy trying to protect myself from undesirable outcomes than I do pursuing the only outcome that matters.
Thankfully there is another option.
Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act.
There’s so much I don’t know, and sometimes the sheer weight of that becomes noticeable, but as I follow Christ, the ever-repeated reminder is that I don’t have to. Not even when my own emotions take me by surprise and I have to blog again, after a million months, just to sort it out.
If you feel like that, occasionally, try Psalm 37.3-7ish on for size.