“Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are, quite naturally, impatient in everything to reach the end without delay. We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new. And yet it is the law of progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability — and that it may take a very long time.
And so I think it is with you. Your ideas mature gradually; let them grow, let them shape themselves, without undue haste. Don’t try to force them on, as though you could be today what time (that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will) will make of you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new spirit gradually forming within you will be. Give Our Lord the benefit of believing that his hand is leading you, and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.”
–Pierre Teilhard De Chardin, SJ
I’ll be honest: I’m more impatient at this point in the year then I’ve ever been before.
I’m impatient for my former roommate to visit Boston. I’m impatient for our St. Patrick’s Day party and the chance to see my JVC friends again. I’m impatient for the end of winter. And let’s not even address the issue of patience at work or patience with myself. Impatient, impatient, impatient for all these things in my future.
I’m also missing home a little bit; missing the sky, the air, Midwestern hospitality, and a sea of Cardinal’s hats. I’m missing my family, missing friends I haven’t seen since last summer or December at the earliest, so I’m impatient to go home in mid-April.
Part of me still hasn’t quite grasped that I’ve graduated from college; that some of my friends and I will permanently live in different places now; that the people I spent the past four years eating meals with, studying with, living with, and going out with every weekend are now people who my relationships with are mainly maintained through phone calls and text messages. That’s still hard to grasp, and there’s not a clear end in sight for when that might end, if it ever does.
Last year, when I moved into my apartment at SLU, I made a collage above my bed of pictures and the words “Be Here Now” as a reminder to stay focused on enjoying my last year of college, rather than worrying about my future. I unintentionally wrote the same phrase in my journal this morning, and as soon as the words were on the page, it brought back a flood of memories from where I was a year ago–in the midst of the JVC placement process, trying so hard to be open, but just wanting to know what the future would hold. And I’m still in a very similar boat, almost exactly a year later, except that this time, I’m even further from the answers to my questions.
And these are the moments when I’m reminded of a song I was first introduced to at the end of my senior year, during our final CLC coordinators meeting. CLC is still dear to my heart, and always will be. This song is something I come back to as a summation of how I felt then, and in many ways, of how I still feel now. And maybe I just need to learn to enjoy and embrace the ride.
sometimes i ask to sneak a closer look
skip to the final chapter of the book
and then maybe steer us clear from some of the pain it took
to get us where we are this far
but the question drowns in its futility
even i have got to laugh at me
no one gets to miss the storm of what will be
just holding on for the ride