I hate lasts. I hate them a lot. I don't care that lasts lead to new beginnings. I'd like my old beginnings to continue on.
But they don't. They come to an end.
Last night was my last prom. And as my last prom, it was also my last high school dance. It was wonderful, it was beautiful, and I'll have those memories forever, but when I got home, what I did was cry. I sobbed into my pillow and told God I can't do it. I can't graduate. I can't leave home and go to college halfway across the country. I can't wake up in the morning and not have the promise of seeing the beautiful faces of the people I've come to know so well the past four years. (They tell you that by the time you hit May, you'll be thrilled to graduate and get out of there. Tripe, I tell you, tripe!)
And it hurts so badly, sometimes I just want to scream. I want to hit something. I want to squeeze my fists, I want to rip up a really big plant, I want to go underwater and not come back up until I have the promise that everything will stay the same.
But things don't stay the same. Nor should they. They change. I understand it. But that doesn't mean I like it.
There is something so crucial about going through this time of change in my life. As I've gone through all these "lasts," I've been forced to ask myself, What is my constant? When I wake up in the morning, what is my trust in? While everything around me whirls out of control, what am I counting on to stay the same?
And that's when I realize that my trust is in the wrong things. My trust is in waking up to a queen-sized bed and a semi-messy room. My trust is in knowing exactly how many stairs lead up to the kitchen. My trust is in the view from my family room. My trust is in knowing exactly where every outlet is in a given area. My trust is in the mommy who never fails to remind me, "Text me when you get there." My trust is in a little blue Corolla. My trust is in a boy whose hugs I look forward to every Thursday. My trust is in a girl I can count on to hug me, and laugh and cry with me no matter what I'm going through. My trust is in a school where everyone knows your name, and you know everyone's name. My trust is in teachers who can always tell when something is wrong. My trust is in knowing I can run to my mommy's room if I get sick in the middle of the night.
And all of that is about to change. I'll be going to a place where I don't know the number of stairs leading up to a dorm room. Where I'll have a twin bed. Where I have no idea what my view will look like. Where I'll no longer text my mommy every time I go somewhere. Where I won't have a car, where I'll never get those Thursday hugs, where that girl will only be available by phone, where no one will know my name for a long time, where teachers haven't learned what I look like when I'm upset, where if I get sick in the middle of the night, I'll be all alone.
I've never been so terrified. I wish I could stay four years old for forever and sleep in my parents' bed when I get scared of the dark. I wish I could stay eight years old forever and have the imagination that never runs out of names for its dolls. I wish I could stay twelve forever, just on the brink of being a teenager. I wish I could stay seventeen and eleven twelfths forever, grown up but still held close by that childhood home.
I wish I didn't have to grow up. I wish things didn't have to change. Big girls don't cry...but now that I'm a big girl, I've never cried so much (as evidenced by the six tissues that have been used while writing this post).
But in the midst of it all, I hear whispered softly to my heart, I'm so glad you're sad. It means you understand how much you've been blessed. I'm so glad you're weak, so that I can be strong. I'm so glad you're falling down, so that I can help you back up. I'm so glad you can't do this -- because now, you'll let Me.
When everything else changes, my Jesus stays the same. When everything I've trusted in is ripped away, I have to trust in Him. When I'm all alone, I'll be quicker to run to Him. When I'm terrified, He'll hold me in His arms and remind me that He has plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me a hope and a future.
I hate lasts. I hate change. But I love my Savior. And if change is what will bring me closer to Him...then bring it on.
But they don't. They come to an end.
Last night was my last prom. And as my last prom, it was also my last high school dance. It was wonderful, it was beautiful, and I'll have those memories forever, but when I got home, what I did was cry. I sobbed into my pillow and told God I can't do it. I can't graduate. I can't leave home and go to college halfway across the country. I can't wake up in the morning and not have the promise of seeing the beautiful faces of the people I've come to know so well the past four years. (They tell you that by the time you hit May, you'll be thrilled to graduate and get out of there. Tripe, I tell you, tripe!)
And it hurts so badly, sometimes I just want to scream. I want to hit something. I want to squeeze my fists, I want to rip up a really big plant, I want to go underwater and not come back up until I have the promise that everything will stay the same.
But things don't stay the same. Nor should they. They change. I understand it. But that doesn't mean I like it.
There is something so crucial about going through this time of change in my life. As I've gone through all these "lasts," I've been forced to ask myself, What is my constant? When I wake up in the morning, what is my trust in? While everything around me whirls out of control, what am I counting on to stay the same?
And that's when I realize that my trust is in the wrong things. My trust is in waking up to a queen-sized bed and a semi-messy room. My trust is in knowing exactly how many stairs lead up to the kitchen. My trust is in the view from my family room. My trust is in knowing exactly where every outlet is in a given area. My trust is in the mommy who never fails to remind me, "Text me when you get there." My trust is in a little blue Corolla. My trust is in a boy whose hugs I look forward to every Thursday. My trust is in a girl I can count on to hug me, and laugh and cry with me no matter what I'm going through. My trust is in a school where everyone knows your name, and you know everyone's name. My trust is in teachers who can always tell when something is wrong. My trust is in knowing I can run to my mommy's room if I get sick in the middle of the night.
And all of that is about to change. I'll be going to a place where I don't know the number of stairs leading up to a dorm room. Where I'll have a twin bed. Where I have no idea what my view will look like. Where I'll no longer text my mommy every time I go somewhere. Where I won't have a car, where I'll never get those Thursday hugs, where that girl will only be available by phone, where no one will know my name for a long time, where teachers haven't learned what I look like when I'm upset, where if I get sick in the middle of the night, I'll be all alone.
I've never been so terrified. I wish I could stay four years old for forever and sleep in my parents' bed when I get scared of the dark. I wish I could stay eight years old forever and have the imagination that never runs out of names for its dolls. I wish I could stay twelve forever, just on the brink of being a teenager. I wish I could stay seventeen and eleven twelfths forever, grown up but still held close by that childhood home.
I wish I didn't have to grow up. I wish things didn't have to change. Big girls don't cry...but now that I'm a big girl, I've never cried so much (as evidenced by the six tissues that have been used while writing this post).
But in the midst of it all, I hear whispered softly to my heart, I'm so glad you're sad. It means you understand how much you've been blessed. I'm so glad you're weak, so that I can be strong. I'm so glad you're falling down, so that I can help you back up. I'm so glad you can't do this -- because now, you'll let Me.
When everything else changes, my Jesus stays the same. When everything I've trusted in is ripped away, I have to trust in Him. When I'm all alone, I'll be quicker to run to Him. When I'm terrified, He'll hold me in His arms and remind me that He has plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me a hope and a future.
I hate lasts. I hate change. But I love my Savior. And if change is what will bring me closer to Him...then bring it on.
