We have come to that time of year again—the wrapping up of classes, the slow dwindling of my to-do list as I cross off papers and exams in a steady slog to the end of the semester. As I sit in the chapel now—9:30 pm on Saturday, May 6th in the year 2017—I have one exam standing between me and graduation. It’s strange to think that in less than three weeks, I will get on a train to Seattle with no definite plans of when/if I will return. Meanwhile many of my friends are preparing for one-way trips of their own and the surreal finality of it all is starting to sink in. It’s crazy to think back four years ago to my eighteen-year-old self who decided to pack up and move across the country. So many things have happened in my life since then—my family moved from Holden Village in central Washington to Seattle via a seven-month road trip around the country, I visited 22 new states but also traveled outside the U.S., spending time in Tanzania and Ecuador, I gained a much clearer sense of my own identity, my place in the world, and my sense of call. I became more comfortable living in ambiguity and I became better at truly listening to the people around me. My brother started college and my parents started new jobs, I published one novel and wrote a second. The political landscape shifted dramatically. I met so many people that my ability to remember faces and names has drastically diminished. I grew in my faith, my confidence, and my understanding of the world.
On some level I can’t believe that four years have already gone by but on the other hand, my first days at BU feel like faded memories lodged on a high shelf far away, dusty from disuse and the passage of time. And now, thinking about leaving feels like I’m on an ice floe that’s broken off from the mainland and is slowly drifting out to sea. There are so many people here who have been woven into my life and it’s hard to imagine a life where I don’t get to see them every week. But I know that is the nature of college life—it is a temporary alignment of people and events. It is beautiful while it lasts but must inevitably transition into something new.
Last Monday, the Marsh Associates had our end of the year dinner. We laughed and ate delicious food and then the other associates presented me with a parting gift—a binder full of every blog post I have written during my three years in the internship program. It is fulfilling to have a physical representation of all the work I have done here but the part that I will cherish the most is the last section of the binder where they all wrote letters of love, wishing me well and remembering the work I have done here. Reading these letters, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and surrounded with love and community. As I prepare to move on to the next part of my journey, it will be hard to say goodbye but I am excited to follow my call. I know there will be things about next year that will be difficult but it is comforting to know that I have so many wonderful people who love me and will be praying for me. I have been blessed to be a part of this community during my time here in Boston and I can only hope that I have been a blessing to others as well. Peace and love to all of you.
O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us. Through Jesus Christ Our Lord. Amen.