To Everybody Going Back To School

I regularly “essay.” Some people call it journaling, but my “journaling” largely varies from just my daily life. Recently, I found this “essay” that I wrote in my journal sometime during my school semesters (looks like a fall semester from the mention of cross country). So, this is to all my friends who are just starting the school year over again with much love, uncut, unedited (well, I eliminated the names to sacrificially protect the guilty), and blatantly honest: 

I am always amazed with how discouraged I can sometimes be by the end of a good day. Professors have somehow managed to make me feel as if I am not doing enough work, even though I’m not a student that slacks off. My goal is always 100% on every project, paper, test, or essay. That’s just the way that I’m hard-wired. Some people are okay with going to bed without fully completing the reading assignment for the next day. If I tried that, I wouldn't be able to sleep. Some people are okay without reading the assignment at all. God, save me! Or actually, save them! Never mind, let them fail for not even trying. Oh, I’m sorry, God; that’s not very Christian … but it’s what I think!

            And yet, at the end of the day, I still feel like a failure. My Spanish professor has told me that my accent is awful, filled with a schwa that I can’t kill, and that I should be reading more Spanish literature. My history professor has made me feel like I don’t stay up on current events enough and that there’s some essential history that I haven’t read or studied. My English professor has added a few more books to my long summer reading list. The pastor who preached in chapel told me that I have failed multiple times in my Christian walk and that I’m not reading the Bible or praying or witnessing or edifying others as much as I should. A running website to which I subscribe told me that I don’t exercise enough. A friend told me I don’t eat enough protein, but I eat too many carbohydrates. A relative asked me why I don’t practice my piano and French horn anymore. “You used to play so well,” she sighs. I go to tutor my students wishing that I’d had more time to spend preparing. Some quote told me that I should be writing a little bit everyday if I ever want to improve as a writer. A friend tells me about how he listens to a Christian commentary on world news headlines during breakfast. Someone at lunch asks me if I have watched this new movie yet. I haven’t. My little sister rattles off a sci-fi novel I should read. “It’s a quick read,” she says. A teacher catches me in the hall between work and class. “You should take French.” he says. “I would love to! But I don’t have time!” I reply regretfully in Spanish. “You always make time for what you want to do.” He says, shrugging with disappointment.

            Because I wanted every part of 21 credits, applying for scholarships, running cross country, being an older sister, working, doing homework, living a consistent Christian life, tutoring, entering two magazine poetry contests, leading my room … not that I don't. It's just ... 

            If only what my professor told me was actually true!

            Does nobody get that I am beset behind and before with pressures? Article after article tells me how to become more successful and useful. Programs say that I only need to be willing to devote five minutes each day ... to everything under the sun!

            And then, there is this abundance of new research that tells us that people are more productive if they take about 20 minutes or so a day of empty brain time. And a cat nap. It should help, assuming you get your 8+ hours of sleep, too.

            I want to scream, “Can you let me live?” Why does everybody feel the pressing need to tell me how to spend my time when I don’t even have any anymore?

            A doctor tells me that when I get stressed out I put on weight in my stomach even if I am running three or four miles per day.

            Great.

            Why do people demand supernatural abilities from such finite creatures?

            God planned limitations.

            God gave Aaron to Moses, who said he couldn’t speak.

            Jesus chose to lay aside heaven’s fame. He limited Himself! That's amazing!

            The world was created with both space and time, the two greatest limitations (and the whole reason both the storage business and the fast food business boom).

            There were several different types of priests in the Jewish temple, each with only a few specific tasks.

            Paul never made it to the Roman believers.

            Jesus chose twelve disciples. Not thousands. Or even hundreds.

            Paul had a “thorn in the flesh.”

            Jesus did not go to every single country in the world when He came from heaven.

            Everybody will not be saved.

            Does that mean God has failed today?

            A resounding “No!”

            If the world could be managed by one person (it’s called a dictatorship), God would have created it that way and kept it that way. He’s omniscient. He knew what He needed and wanted to bring Himself all the glory.

If we could do everything, wouldn't we be God?

            God planned limitations.

            Why do we feel that we can and should do it all? Or even anything close to it all?

            The Bible says, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.” May I suggest that it doesn't say visit every country, talk to every person, critique every book, or write every commentary? Or excel at every sport, learn every language, and know something about every topic of conversation?

            I once read a quote that said, “If you don’t have enough time to read your Bible and pray, you are busier than God ever intended you to be.”

            I’m too tired to expand more on this train of thought, so I guess I will leave it be for a few days.

           

           

So, to my college friends and everybody else going back to school this semester: I did leave this essay for a few days. The train never got back on the tracks; I never wrote a sequel. I can’t remember if I didn't have enough time, or if I just accepted my own limitations in continuing it. To be honest, I can’t even remember when I found time to write it.