Bidding Adieu to 2012

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When I was younger, I liked to journal around the end of the year and do my own personal “Year in Review.”  Those seeking secrets can comb through the various journals to find what notable events happened in my life in February 2006, for example, or at any point during my senior year in high school.  I lost enthusiasm for the tradition a few years back though, but since this is my first New Year’s with a blog, I figure what better way than to revive that habit here?

2012.  For years, the idea of this year inhabited a far-off corner of my mind as the year in the future during which I would graduate college, and as such, it seemed so distant.  But a year ago at this point in time, the clock struck midnight and suddenly reality sunk in that many cherished parts of my life would come to an end.  But I don’t think I had any concept of all that would begin, either.  For in one year’s time, while I did see the endings in the form of the accomplishment of some major goals, including earning a Bachelor’s degree and completing an undergraduate thesis, I embarked on several new and exciting moments, too.

The first is the teaching career I have longed dreamed of.  I went to the wedding of a friend from high school a few weeks ago where I was reunited with a few old friends and acquaintances from high school.  Those I had lost touch with expressed a similar sentiment to me: “You’re teaching!!! That’s what you always wanted to do!!”  And there was something so refreshing and inspiring in that.  It’s so easy to become bogged down in the everyday stress of my first-year of teaching, and to have a reminder of that long-held dream was warmly welcomed to give me the refreshment I needed to get me through the second half of this long but fruitful year.

I also started graduate school.  While I openly admit I am not the student I once was, which I suspect is the case with anyone who pursues a degree while working full-time, it sometimes gives me chills to think how in a relatively short period of time I will be one step further along in my career.  Whenever I am on campus for class, I often overhear conversations of undergraduates and marvel at how that was me not too long ago – it seems so distant and yet it is not at all.

But I have also begun adulthood more fully this year, a less tangible beginning than a career or an education, but all the more important in many ways.  Here I am, juggling work and school and responsibilities and friendships with people scattered literally all over the country, as life often spreads those closest to you at varying geographic distances.  In many ways, it is so incredibly scary to think how much more adulthood will bring within the coming years: more bills, more duties at work, my own place to live, relationships, maybe even a family.  And as scary as it is, it so incredibly exciting.  There is so much unknown that is waiting to be discovered, and while, with every unknown, there are sure to be challenges and disappointments, I also know from experience that some of the most beautiful blessings come from the unknown as well.

I will always have nostalgia for the year that was 2012, a year that started with living amongst some of the greatest friends in the world with whom I made happy memories on a constant basis and that ended amidst newness and transition. But here’s to 2013, a year that will hopefully bring many more beginnings and exciting and memorable moments in life with friends and family.

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Friends, Faith, and Fortune

I survived Term 1 of my first year of teaching. 1 down, 3 to go – it’s the little things, you know?

And it’s been a tough one.  Overall, it is fabulous, but everything they say about the first year being super difficult and filled with self-doubt and feeling like you’re barely keeping your head above water is 100 percent true.   At one meeting for the first-year teachers at my school, we got a handout entitled “Phases of First-Year Teaching” and it basically went through the roller-coaster of emotion first year teachers tend to experience.  Well let me tell you, I skipped pretty quickly to “disillusionment” – a few weeks ahead of the curve (but maybe that’s typical of my overachiever style…).

Naturally, through the craziness of it all, I’ve been forced to reflect on friendship.  After making the switch from living in the same building or apartment as many of my best friends to moving back home and spending lots of time on my own, it’s been a very, very lonely time, which seems like a ridiculous statement when you take into consideration that I am in the presence of a room full of people all day, every day.  But I miss being with those who really know me.  Know when I’m not really ok even when I say I am, and who can give me the best hug in the world when all I want to do is cry.  Know me enough to celebrate with me over each little success and improvement.  I feel like I’m wandering around and still trying to feel like I fit into this place just a bit more snugly.  Adjustment takes time, I know, but sometimes I just want to fast-forward through this year and just have more experience under my belt and stop feeling like the needy and unknowledgeable first-year teacher.  And so I long so much more for my friends.  Some of the people who had consistently been there for other times of struggle in my life were not – one seems to have chosen not to be there, and another had her own big burdens to carry.  Life gets in the way and makes regular check-ins sometimes close to impossible.  But others have been there and listened and reassured and guided and prayed.

Yes, faith, too, has been my friend during these times.  I pray for peace and reassurance.  I’m in the process of saying a 9-week novena for one friend, and I consistently pray for others.  I stop by one of the campus chapels after my grad class and sit and reflect in one of the rare instances of peace and quiet I can seem to find these days.  No matter how lonely it may feel, I have my faith to bring me light.

But when people ask how faith is possible even when there is suffering, I find it hard to give an articulate answer.  “Why do some people experience no pain, while others do?” and “How can you justify tragedy?” one asked.  Somehow, my mantra of “Everything Happens for a Reason” seems insensitive in cases like these.  But then I remember that everything does happen for a reason.  Pain makes you who you are, tragedy prepares you for the future, challenges make the next round easy.  Love and friendship and happy memories are the rewards.

This year is hard for a reason – to make the next one easier.  I miss my friends for a reason – to realize who is really there and who I may need to reevaluate.  I’m lonely for a reason – to enjoy and cherish the time I do spend with my loves so much more.  And it will get easier, but it will take time.  So I’ll just have to be patient.