Life has a funny way of working sometimes.
I was incredibly blessed to have my family and my girlfriend visit me this weekend. I had missed them so much, and seeing them walk in the door with smiles on their faces was like a gasp of air after swimming to the surface. But I can tell you, the week before that, I was bouncing out of my skin, so excited, and anticipating their arrival.
Just over three and a half days later, they returned home, and I find myself playing the waiting game.
While this wonderful visit was occurring, the Foundry was undergoing some changes in our community. We are realizing that our time together is ending at the moment. In the past few weeks, we have had laughter, tears, job offers, shopping trips, ice cream runs, and even an engagement. And yet, despite these wonderful moments that we have shared together, I think all of us have an eye towards our summers, and subsequently our future.
At the same time, I have three weeks of school yet, and my phone is seemingly blowing up with friends getting together and enjoying their summers. But I still have midterms to take.
We live in an uncertain world. I have no clue what my future will hold. I hope that I get to see my family in a few weeks. I hope that the brotherhood the Foundry has built will remain burning in all of us. I hope that I can make it these last three weeks without going nuts. I hope that our lives are continually changing those around us.
But time moves on.
But right now, I want it to stop.
I want the sunlight to freeze as it flutters though the branches.
I want the squirrels to sit and just breathe for once.
I want to take a breath myself.
But time moves on.
And I fall into the anticipation trap. I can’t wait to see my family again. I can’t wait to see how my brothers in this house continue to band together. I can’t wait for tests and homework to be done. I can’t wait to know my future.
I want these things, and I want them now.
But I don’t have them.
And only one word echoes through my head:
These things will come. I believe that there is a plan for me that I could never imagine. And I want it now.
I want the best lives for my family, and I want to continue to show love to my siblings and my girlfriend.
I want to know if I am going to make it into Med School.
I want to know where my Foundry brothers will be employed, and I want to know that we will all be in each other’s hearts.
I want the school year to end.
I want it now.
I hate having to be patient. I hate having the questions about anticipation. I hate having the fears of not understanding.
And then I am hit with the incredible truth: I will never know these things. Even if I find out the answers to a couple of these questions, I will always have more questions. I want to know now, and I will never know.
Then today, I read James 5:7-8. “The farmer waits for the precious produce of the soil, being patient about it, until it gets the early and late rains. You too be patient; strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near.” I realized that this is not me.
This is about us: as humans, as believers, as individuals seeking the best of our lives. If a farmer just sat and waited for their crops the entire summer, they would miss out on so many opportunities to live and love.
The crops will grow, will you? Will I?
And so, I need to stop wanting to know. I need to live in THIS moment, not in the next one. I need to remember THIS time, not prepare for the next. I need to count THIS day, not the next days until I can see my family and girlfriend again.
Because I was given THIS day.
And I want THIS day.
And thankfully, I can have THIS day right now.