Every year I say if you asked me a year ago if I thought my life would look like this a year from now I’d say no. And this year is no different, at all.
Last year practically everyone I knew had some story about how they lived the year I was about to enter. No matter how many stories I heard from whomever they fell into one of two categories.
It was the best year of their lives
it was the worst year of their lives.
I started to ask why that was after the 5th story, for no other reason than people were adamant about the way they felt, but never once provided a reason.
Once I asked “why” some people did provide their reasoning, but very few. It wasn’t because they didn’t want to talk about it or because they couldn’t remember why, they honestly didn’t know why. I then adopted the policy of, “don’t tell me how you felt at my age, unless you can tell me why,” because I just couldn’t stand hearing another story, especially from people who enjoy butting into business that isn’t their own.
Interestingly enough my eye doctor had the most in-depth and straight forward answer (because even he had an opinion). I understand his reasoning and if I were in his position I think I’d agree with him (because being a student for most of your life doesn’t sound like fun) but as his long time patient I’m thankful he spend all that time learning.
As I look back on this past year I’m going to tell you my conclusion of such an infamous year.
It wasn’t the best year of my life
it wasn’t the worst year of my life.
And I can tell you why, because I’m saving my ten (to borrow a line from The Fault In Our Stars) and I’m saving my zero.
While it’s true that I don’t think I’ll live as long as some of my peers I’m not ready to cash in my chips yet and call one year the best or the worst of my life just yet.
There’s also the matter of this past year has been so drastically different from the last few it really impossible to do a valuable compare and contrast.
Last year I traveled every few months. This year I’ve barely moved from sitting in front of my laptop (even though my laptop is fully capable of being taken on the go).
Last year I worked a lot, sometimes more than I should have, and wondered if I should really go back to school. This year my hours were cut back and I’m learning to balance working and studying (and passing classes).
Last year I read whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. This year I’ve read required and recommended course reading. I think I’ve read one book for fun, thanks to Arleen Spenceley.
Last year I made countless connections on the speaking circuit but very little came to light. This year I gave my 1st of (hopefully) many talks and was considered “Faculty” at a continuing education conference.
Last year I asked for things, as gifts, that I didn’t want to spend the money on myself. This year I asked for textbooks and anything of direct monetary value to help pay tuition.
Last year I watched more friends “finally” (their word not mine) embark on their true vocations while I was secretly hoping to do the same very soon. This year I’m “finally” (again, not my word) knee deep in the ongoing discernment/vocation process and wondering if it’s possible for one’s head to spontaneously combust.