The Train

Friday afternoon...near dusk and a crisp breeze setting in from the north. It's gonna be a chilly weekend.

I'm sitting in the computer lab just prior to running over to the chapel on campus to set up for IV large group. Seems like not ten minutes ago I was setting up for last week. Then again that feels like an eternity ago. For the first weekend in a few Matt's not down which is a bit sad but also probably good for both of our productivity levels. Mom and I and Casey travel to St. Louis tomorrow for a girl's day with Donna...something that hasn't happened in a good couple of years. Very excited to see her/them for a short time at least and get some time away from school. I'm definitely becoming tunnel visioned a bit as I battle through the onslaught of tests, papers, labs, and annotated bibliographies that have been my week in simplified form. Frustrated that I rarely find myself on the couch downstairs with my roomies just vegging for a few minutes because I'm afraid if I sat down I'd get up again sometime the next day.

Time seems to very much be slipping away. Somehow it's Vespers season already and as I watch the blur of the weeks go by I'm more and more aware of large changes on the horizon which are suddenly getting larger rather than staying a bulky and distant thing to view. I'm fascinated that sometimes the best way to keep your mind on the present is to throw yourself into the here-and-now as much as possible. But that is also the best way to end up far down a stretch of road that you don't remember traveling and much closer to the impending decisions, landmarks, and life stages.

I have the pleasure of watching a few good friends who are entering real transition states and watching them do it first. Jill is half way through her first year of teaching and thriving in her position but good at sharing temporary insecurities about being an "inbetween" college kid and adult. Holly will start student teaching next semester and is processing words like "graduation" with increasing fluency. Hillary is preparing to graduate next month and is looking to find her first real job and get married within the year. My academic mentor is gone....graduated and off to grad school and all that lies beyond. Chelsea and Alan are preparing to tie the knot in a matter of weeks. Andrea and Aaron are entering the medical field "for real" in their own ways. And behind me things keep changing too. Casey is college hunting and applicating at every spare minute. TJ is looking at high schools. Christmas has been designated as an "all family" event on my dad's side, with every cousin and brother that the "supertwins" (his mother and aunt) provided him and their offspring making an appearance. Both the twins and their spouses are getting up there in years and though in excellent health overall are experiencing their first real brushes with serious health complications. Though no one will say it, everyone knows that this is potentially the last time the whole family will be together. Hard to fathom. In my mind they are still as young and energetic as they are in my mom's wedding album...certainly "older" but never frail. Never gone.

As I observe the many significant people in my life I'm struck by the presence of a supportive "swirl" of people...who touch me and meaningfully change me as one small droplet in a larger brush stroke. And while they may not know where the next part of the stroke will take them it seems that time is going fast enough that I can watch it happen. I can see their stories in lines and pathways rather than individual chapters.

It's a beautiful view, really. A reminder of the direction and story that accompanies the day to day choices and opinions and tasks and frustrations and relationships and impressions and efforts and joys and blessings. It's just that somehow, when I was younger, I had an impression that life was safe because it was small...controlled...understandable. And while I always longed for adventure and conquest and great acts of courage I always knew that the things in my life were, mostly, constant. There are always parts of life that throw you curve balls, but ultimately my life has been steady and even...privilleged and free...happy and warm and inviting.

And it is....it still is. But suddenly the things that I always aspired to are beginning to make me feel trapped...not in something that I don't wish to do but in a mode of living, a pace of life that I'm not used to living. It's just like it was in second grade. The hill always looks inviting to the ambitious bike rider, but it's not until half way down that you realize that the stakes just got higher...a fall will hurt more, the road might be bumpier, and who knows whether you'll ever make it back to the top. The adventure of the fall is fun, and all that lies beyond "charted boundaries" calls us, but upon arriving we realize just how much we don't know and how much we took for granted back home.

I'm looking for grad schools...something I've wanted to do for longer than I can remember. I'm taking classes that are applicable and I love them...my passion is there, my excitement is there, my desire to help people is there, my love for the new and different is there...but I can't shake a feeling that when I jump I'll never come back. And I can't stop a warning sign in the back of my mind that says "Jump if you dare" from slowing my step just a bit as I approach the edge of the cliff. It looks awesome down there. But so does the rear-view mirror.

And while I ask for more time to make better decisions and to think through things more thouroughly I know that the circumstances won't change for staying longer. I'm not any less inclined now to jump than I ever will be...and I'll be better fit for the journey below if I can get there a bit sooner. And there's no time like the present. And God will meet me there. And it's all about faith. And we have the best road map we'll ever need. And God is faithful. And good things come to those who take a chance. And if you shoot for the moon and fall short you'll at least hit the stars.

But the swirl returns and sweeps away the cliches and the obvious answers and leaves only a few things remaining.

God has called me.
God has prepared me.
God desires glory.
I have that ability.

I will go.

And before I do I will take the time to truly appreciate this golden plateau, which for all its hardships and frustrations has trained and nurtured and developed me without me even noticing. It has primed the brush for my first real strokes; cleaned the gears of the engine; set a course for the first parts of my journey.

They are ready and waiting...but I am not. I still have some time to enjoy the stationary and to revel in the parts that are mundane without allowing them to quench a higher passion. I will. I must.

I'm so scared of getting older
I'm only good at being young.
So I play the numbers game to find a way to say
that life has just begun.

Had a talk with my old man.
Said, "Help me understand."
He said, "Turn 68...you'll renegotiate.
Don't stop this train, don't for a minute change the place you're in.
Don't every think that I don't understand. I've tried my hand.
Quite honestly, we'll never stop this train."

Once in a while when it's good, it'll feel like it should.
And they're there, and they're all safe and sound.
And you'll never know what you've missed till you cry
as you're driving away in the dark singing

stop this train, I wanna get off and go home again
I can't stop this speed it's moving in
I know I can't
Cause now I see I'll never stop this train.

John Mayer