I do not like what I've begun

"I had a dream I could fly...from the highest tree."

-Priscilla Ahn

Well, why can't we?

An admittance:

I do not intend to go back to graduate school in January.

Many reasons.

One:

It's not my deepest passion. Neglecting our passions is a waste of time. It's time I lived that ideal.

But, of course, this means that I have no excuse not to do and try my best. Well, I endeavor to try. Remember: thinking and doing are two different things.

This is a scary decision.

But,

the Lord is asking me again to try. Do I trust him?

Yes, I do. He has never proven himself otherwise.

In fact, it's simply the opposite.

The Lord loves me so that his patience does not run out with my meanderings. But now it's time to come back home to what I know is right, what must be done.

So, I'll ask for supportive words because this is going to be a windy road to travel.

And I think that one day I will look back with a clear vision of what came from this.

And I will be thankful for this leap. You see, quitting makes no practical sense.

I've tried to legitimize school from every angle. School makes sense.

Does sense matter the most?

No, it doesn't.

A Scene

I am adult:

Now it has been many years, over a decade since I've seen Dana. What I remember of her is a young girl with chubby cheeks and blonde hair. I would not recognize her in a crowd. From that time in my young life, I would recognize hardly anyone in a crowd.
Yesterday my mom called. She left a message on my voicemail and said, "I have some sad news, honey. Do you remember Bett, your aunt with the hair clip above her forehead that held her bangs back, remember her? Well, she had cancer. She passed away this morning."
I heard it in my mother's voice on the message, heard how she longed for those easy days and those family events. Heard how she resisted the change that time forces us to accept. Heard her longing, heard her hoping. In her voice I heard that she knew someday it would be grandma's turn, her turn, mine.
Memories may be rich but things do change a bit. The people look different, the food is prepared by different hands. But the spirit is the same. In those moments, hold the memory, the spirit, grasp it tightly.

Keep it alive with who you are.