Our last whole Sunday allotted a pause in finals cramming for one last initiated roomie-tea. We sat around the snowflake in Maeg and I’s room as laughs quieted and the silence spoke for us all. Then, as we watched the dream of our semester through Maegan’s artwork, tears began to fall…
What has this semester truly been?
After watching Maegan’s stop motion summation of this season, we decided to praise each other on paper. Our few “last words” quickly spawned into life-giving dancing. The dance was Terra’s present-it’s how she talks-and it was so clearly understood. As she spoke, she told of Maegie’s constant love-her mesmerizing spirit that we all draw from. She accounted for my heart, almost prophetically, offering the beats of her own to fill its weakness. She knelt before Maya, the greatest servant of us all. She welcomed Emily’s openness, sassed with Isla’s transparency, un-layered Hil’s spirit and defined Ethna’s loyalty.
And then she embraced her deep-loving, soul-friend, Brooke.
Favorite memories and untold stories evolved into deep affirmation-moments void of any catch. Genuine, pure love and called-out spirits with freshly aided understanding of what we each saw in and loved about each other.
As we recounted just how much we enriched each other’s lives, I met Maeg’s understanding gaze with a shared feeling of sweetness and heaviness all at once. There were no falsified promises of reunion, only a mutually residing, quiet hope.
I will never forget this night, as I continue to see it as a revealing benchmark in my life. It was a night that could not be captured by cameras or videos, and cannot even be captured in words.
Yet, as the Little Prince says, it is the unseen secret underneath that makes something special.
Chaotic closure sealed our final weekend, yet from that sacred Sunday onward, we walked through it together. Literally all in one room – moved mattresses, piled bodies, talks and dances – all in desperate attempt to absorb what was left from each other. And as I wrestled with the intense reflection on my days since August, I suddenly grasped a hint of what this semester was about. As if a faint but penetrating whisper uttered the simple reminder- “It’s not about you.”
And as I accepted that statement, “It is not about me” the threads of other semester thoughts strung into accord….
I re-understood the sacrifice of the cost of following Christ- the dying to myself: It’s not about me.
I re-realized the importance of relationship and community. The unexpected yet deeply intricate shared life that sanded and sanctified and served through the surrounding comrades: It’s not about me.
I re-wrestled through a need for kenosis-to surrender all my vain hopes and expectations of these last moments, allowing room for the Maker to unravel each minute in Divine Design: It’s not about me.
So as Maegan and I walk away from this place- this intangible place we will never be able to return to- we accept the ironic banner “It is not about me.”
May we be Transcendently led in this difficult claim through the Christmas season and whatever “next” awaits us….
Thank you for your prayers. This semester was more than we could have ever imagined.
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