A Letter for the Ones Who Feel Left Behind
My Dear Lovelians, Lifers & Misplaced Puzzle Pieces,
I have no excuses this time. I confess I have not given myself much space to think and allow my mind to wander. So much to do with so little time. At least, that is what I convinced myself to be true; therefore, my pen sat on my desk collecting dust.
But today, I have a story for you…
Three months left…two months…one…With a bubble send-off, I watch my dear little sister step into her new life and drive away into the night with her beloved.
Three days left…two days…one… A pair of taillights carry my dear youngest sister into the beginning of her own college misadventures at what she has artfully dubbed ‘the butt-crack of dawn’. A morning person she is not.
Three hours left…two hours…one…I close my laptop and turn out the lights. The unfinished projects on the counter promise another day much the same as today. I lock the door and head for home.
Tuesday—Wednesday—Thursday—My older sister prepares for a furry new addition to her household—Friday—Saturday—Sunday—Honeymoon pictures make me smile.
Monday—Tuesday—Wednesday—A videochat and virtual dorm room tour; her stories make me laugh—Thursday—Friday—Saturday—I miss you—Sunday—Monday—Tuesday—I miss you.
Wednesday—I miss you.
“Hey, are you okay?” My co-worker and friend asks me, pausing her morning classroom--setup routine. Her question takes me off guard.
“I mean, yes, I think so,” I splutter. In my defense, I never really know how to answer this question. To me, life is a story containing a stew of savory, unexpected, and distasteful ingredients. My honest answer usually serves up a bowlful of the whole mixture, lima beans and all. But I have learned people usually want a one-ingredient response. “I guess I’m just sad. I just said goodbye to two of my favorite people.”
She nods. “You just seem…In your thoughts more than usual, like your heart isn’t in it anymore.”
I print the day’s schedule. “Just learning to be okay with mundane I guess. I’m used to moving, not staying in one place for too long.”
Remembering my days as a retail associate, I rest my hands in my lap; the words tumble from my mouth. “Watching my sisters fly and live their dreams has been amazing and I’m so happy for them. It’s just…harder than I thought it’d be.” I abandon my lesson plans and focus on my friend. “I have dreams too, and, as much as I love my job, this isn’t exactly what I’d imagined.”
She moves to stand closer to me and leans against our mobile podium.
“I guess I just feel left behind.” A deep, longing ache surfaces beyond my sister-sick melancholy. My throat tightens.
She purses her lips. “You know He’s not finished with you yet. Your life is just beginning. He still has so much planned for you.” The Christainese words flow so effortlessly and sincerely, I believe them all over again. Truth overused is still truth after all, and my aching heart needs the reminder spoken over me by someone who genuinely cares. Tears spring to my eyes as the warning bell rings. She hugs me tight and whispers, “He hasn’t forgotten you.”
I pull myself together as my students begin meandering in. “Thank you, I needed that,” I smile, my first genuine one in weeks. She returns a smile and resumes her work. A great invisible weight melts away, leaving my melancholy in peace. I practically float through the rest of my day.
Throughout the following months, I never forget her words. 'He hasn’t forgotten you'. I cling to them as I open myself to a new interpretation of seeking the kingdom of God. My understanding began with the knowledge that the kingdom of God is made of people; therefore, to pursue building His kingdom meant pursuing people by being where they are and hopefully leading them to Jesus by example and truth-based love.
Diving a little deeper, I now know it also means releasing the pursuit of what I think will fill me with the kind of satisfaction that comes from a life of impact and trust Him to place me there, even if it doesn’t look the way I imagine. Will I be a teacher forever? Who knows (well, He does). Will my future have me stepping into directing screen stories? Maybe. Film continues to impact me; I am deeply moved by the art of it. But it is also an incredibly indirect form of impact. Will I be satisfied with indirect impact? Only He knows. I have a sneaking suspicion that fans don’t satisfy this inner longing as much as culture promises.
My Dear Friends, how easy is it to forget the basic truth that I am never out of His sight, therefore I am never out of mind. I am never forgotten by Him, not ever. As much as I crave the full picture, I am honestly relieved I can’t see it. I imagine it would only cause anxiety and heaven-forbid unbelief. Thoughts of my future would overwhelm me, and I have no doubt I would try and take matters into my own hands to make His promises come about—Just ask Abraham. No, I am content in the not knowing. And open to the possibility that the satisfaction in my work may look entirely different than what I dreamed as a child.
Will write soon; in the meantime, never forget.
You Have My Sword,
Olivia
P.S. Middle schooler comeback of the day: Your birth certificate is an apology letter!
Ah kids.
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