I am so tired. It is the kind of oppressive exhaustion that comes from weeks of adventure, change, transition, and to-do lists that never get done. My body and mind are weary, for the last four days have been full of sight-seeing and memory-making in Northern California with little sleep and lots of movement. But the exhaustion comes from more than that. I feel as if my soul is tired, as if my heart is overtaxed, filled to the brim with conflicting emotions. I want to close my eyes and let it all pass over me, waking up with everything done and the change over, but I stay awake, trying to fight all that is fighting within me.
In these past two years I have been challenged, enlightened, and changed. I have been formed through the fire and I come out a different person than when I entered. I have been in the depths and I have been in the heights. I have cried and laughed and formed friendships that have held me up when I didn’t know what to do. These years have been full, and as the time comes to move on all I want to do is hold on. I want to hold on to Fuller, to Pasadena, to my time here. As it tries to pull away I try to squeeze it tight, eyes closed with determination not to let go, resisting what is ahead. I know that if I let go then it is done, so I want to scream, “not yet! I’m not ready!” I want to resist the change that is coming, to rest my tired head in this safe place of contemplation, learning, and community.
But my arms are failing me and the resistance is too much. As my last week begins, I feel time slipping out of my hands. A soft and powerful voice falls over me telling me to let go, but I don’t want to. I don’t like endings, and I am afraid that if I leave I will forget. I will forget what these years have meant to me, what I have learned and what has changed me. I fear that I will forget my people here, that this world will move on without me. Even though I know that my attempts to hold on will fail, I defiantly refuse to believe this can all be coming to a close. So I lay for the last time on my apartment floor and I shut my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. I slip into the past and pretend, for just one more minute, that I can stay here forever.
But the truth is that on Saturday my Father will pull me off, lending me the strength that I do not have to let go. I know that He will wrap me in His arms and tell me that this is not the end, just another stop along the way. Though I may leave, this place will always be a piece of me, of who I am. And perhaps next week I will be able to rest in the reassurance that the next step of the journey will be just as transformative. Maybe, just maybe, I will be able to sleep a whole day through, waking up to a fresh new adventure and a heart full of love for all that has brought me to where I am.