The Beautiful Unknown
It's hard, not knowing. I certainly felt that as I waited to hear back about potentially working in New Zealand after graduation. It's a roller coaster ride of incredible hope and excitement and excruciating doubt and apprehension. But finally the answer came: No, I will not be going back to New Zealand.
At least not this August.
The relief of finally knowing quickly faded. Because now my whole future, at least after this summer, is a big question mark. Where will I work, live? And not only that, but there is an aspect of grieving at the same time. Intentionally or not, I had begun to imagine what it would be like to go back to New Zealand, remembering the way the sun rose on the Kaikoura beach with a sense of hope that I would see it again soon. Or thinking about my homestay family and their two young daughters, wanting to see them at church, stop by for some tea or milo, see their new house. It's a really painful thought to not know when I will go back, or even if I will ever return.
Even if I had gotten the job, if I had been returning to New Zealand this August, that only temporarily solves the problem of the unknown. After a year or two in New Zealand, what next? Will I then begin my life in the states, the job searching and apartment hunting, then finally face the huge question mark of unknowns?
Regardless of future acceptances or rejections, my future will be a series of unknowns. Rather than think of it as a problem, I want to think of the unknown as something beautiful. I'm glad I don't know. Not because it might be really painful at times, but because I can't wait to be surprised by the good things, small and big, that happen in my future. Who knows what friends I will make, what new homes in cities and buildings I will live in, what new skills and passions I will develop.
It is spring, a time of hope and renewal. Even as one hope is dismayed, more are sprouting up, tiny little hopes just waiting to bloom. So as I enter into my last week of college before graduation, I look into my future with faith, and call it the Beautiful Unknown.
At least not this August.
The relief of finally knowing quickly faded. Because now my whole future, at least after this summer, is a big question mark. Where will I work, live? And not only that, but there is an aspect of grieving at the same time. Intentionally or not, I had begun to imagine what it would be like to go back to New Zealand, remembering the way the sun rose on the Kaikoura beach with a sense of hope that I would see it again soon. Or thinking about my homestay family and their two young daughters, wanting to see them at church, stop by for some tea or milo, see their new house. It's a really painful thought to not know when I will go back, or even if I will ever return.
Even if I had gotten the job, if I had been returning to New Zealand this August, that only temporarily solves the problem of the unknown. After a year or two in New Zealand, what next? Will I then begin my life in the states, the job searching and apartment hunting, then finally face the huge question mark of unknowns?
Regardless of future acceptances or rejections, my future will be a series of unknowns. Rather than think of it as a problem, I want to think of the unknown as something beautiful. I'm glad I don't know. Not because it might be really painful at times, but because I can't wait to be surprised by the good things, small and big, that happen in my future. Who knows what friends I will make, what new homes in cities and buildings I will live in, what new skills and passions I will develop.
It is spring, a time of hope and renewal. Even as one hope is dismayed, more are sprouting up, tiny little hopes just waiting to bloom. So as I enter into my last week of college before graduation, I look into my future with faith, and call it the Beautiful Unknown.
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