Could it be...?

After all the hard work of the last two or three weeks, all the numbness and the foggy-mindedness and the general unpleasantness that accompanies being a master's accounting student in the last weeks of the semester... After all that wrapped up today at 5:00 PM, with the exception of two final exams, it is hard to know how to react to a moment of rest. I have oscillated so much recently on my opinion of accounting, of school, even of my very life--but now, now that it is all a memory, I am reminded that there is nothing that lasts forever in this lifetime. Nothing hard will endure for very long, because life is not very long anyway. And I feel silly for having worried so much.

But sometimes, you have to worry. Not worry as in feel anxious, but worry as in give a care. I can't not care about school, about my grades or just my general performance. I can't sleep well at night with things hanging over my head that must be done and done well. These past weeks, I've had to worry. I've had to care, had to work harder than I ever thought I could work. And now I know it's all okay. Two finals, and then some exam grading. That's all that's left for me, until I begin my internship in late May.

The rain last night really cooled the weather. I think the earth was parched, dehydrated, overheated. Sometimes I think I can hear the earth panting, here in Georgia in the summertime. And the rain refreshes it like a cold sip of water on a sticky, swollen tongue. The rain refreshed me last night--Bob and I walked through it on the way to the Wesley Foundation, and the misty spray in my hair and over the lenses of my glasses helped me feel alive to the world again. I mean really alive, life that pierces through you. I've really felt numb, dead, like my spirit was a vegetable and I've just been dragging it behind me to all my classes and meetings. But wind and rain on your face--that will wake you up, sure enough. It did for me, at least.

To write, to write... I'll write this weekend. I have things to say. Thoughts like bats, flying haphazardly around, fill my mind right now and bang on the inside of my skull, asking to be let out. Open up, they say, admit to us. I've not been trying to hide my thoughts--I've not even had writer's block. I've simply had other things on my mind that were more pressing.

More pressing than my ultimate calling in this life--amazing thought. Distressing thought. I don't strive for much, but I should really learn to strive for less.