It’s almost four in the morning of a Saturday that is exactly four weeks from the end of this school year. The end of my senior year. The end of my leadership term with CCF, and the end of my first year working in the Writing Center.
And again, I think of the people that are leaving and just cannot stop feeling uncomfortable. Another group of people will scatter around the world. And it will take me again a long, long time to adjust to a life without them, and with new faces. That’s exciting. That’s scary.
I am exhausted.
Four weeks left to make my passing grade to at least an A-. Four weeks left for a research recommendation report on diversity. Four weeks left for an info-graphic about Native Americans. And I am here when it’s almost four in the morning, feeling hopeless.
Four weeks left to make final impacts as a leader and a disciple-maker. Jeff asked me the other day who I could reach out to in this four weeks, letting them know that I am their friends, and I love them, in the name of Jesus. I know who. I just don’t know how.
It’s always that question. How?
After all this time, after all I have gone through and all I have achieved, the only thing I still never stop regretting doing is no caring for the friends whom I dearly love. I realized how fast time has flew when I am busy with work, school, and my personal goals. And I realized how fast time is also in creating a gap between me and others.
Four weeks left. I am shouting out for help. I don’t want to say good-bye. I’m tired of it. But perhaps it’s how I grow. How? How do I keep these people by myself but also encourage travelling lives? How can I be so sure that I will visit all these friends wherever they go in the next years that I make that statement a way for me to escape from reality — that they are leaving for good? How can it be possible that they even became my friends?
This time, though, I am left behind. I am not the person who leaves, and I am relived.