Confessions*

(*that really shouldn't be plural, because at present I only have one, but "Confession" just doesn't have the same ring to it)

There should probably be another disclaimer here about how this is another more personal, less thought-out post about what's happening currently in the oh-so-riveting life of one Emily Macadam. I would write one, but I figure that sentence does the trick equally well.

Here goes...

I don't want to graduate.

There, I said it. Oddly enough, I don't feel any release or relief or urge to jump off a building shouting, "I can fly!"

Sure, I'm excited about college. I'm thrilled with the way God orchestrated the events that were necessary to allow me to attend Gordon. I can't wait to meet new people, make new friends, experience new things, explore new places...

But at the same time, I'm quite happy with my current friends. I'm content with the familiar things. There are plenty of places I haven't explored right here in Orange County. The problem is, whether I get on board or not, change is coming faster than a runaway freight train and no drastic measure I could take to slow it down would prove effective in the slightest.

I get kinda eloquent when I'm experiencing deep emotions; can you tell?

Yesterday I went to the first of several graduation parties that I will be attending in the coming weeks. It was a time of joy and celebration, but there was an almost palpable undercurrent of sadness. Graduation is a tremendous milestone: marking not only an achievement, but the end of a chapter. It means new decisions and directions, goodbyes and hellos.

I've learned, in the past year, how much I hate goodbyes. I'm eager for the next step, for continued growth in responsibility and maturity and wisdom. But taking that step means giving up so much - even if it's only temporary.

If I'm being honest, the prospect of leaving home terrifies me as much as excites me. I'm afraid of losing my friends, of leaving for so long that they have time to fill the hole my absence might create with new friends. I'm afraid of coming home and feeling completely out of place, out of touch, out of style. Being replaced.

But I can't stay, because everyone is moving on too. If I don't get on the train, I really will be left behind. I can't stop the clock or opt to live in the past. I can only move forward, or be lost in the stampede.

So many conflicting thoughts, emotions. But when all the confusion is stripped away, the bare-bones truth is this: I can't stay a child forever. Growing up is a fact of life and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. If I accept it for what it is, knowing that God will always provide for me and never leave me or forsake me, then I will find joy even in sorrow, and a new beginning at the bittersweet close of this chapter.

Getting older sucks, but God is still good.