When the End is in the Air

I graduated college in May of 2024. A few weeks before that, I quickly wrote this down in an attempt to organize thoughts of moving forward, adopting a growth mindset, and longing to live like Jesus.

Without us trying, we numbered our days. And we finally realized it when I dropped the tailgate in the empty lot instead of going inside to grab drinks. There wasn’t a whole lot of talk that wasn’t familiar, but without addressing it, we all knew that this shared time would be seldom had, if ever again. 

It’s sort of like how when you sit in the shade in the morning, only to be interrupted by the sun when he comes up a little higher up in the sky and leaves you out there in the open. You don’t necessarily mourn the loss of shade, you simply move a little to the north. And when the sun is up high by noon, you know it’s time to move on. Waiting around for the shade only gets you sunburnt. So, with your own short shadow lies the question: How do I move forward without something I know to be familiar and safe? 

There’s something to be said about the light, though. All things living must grow, and with that growth comes the pruning, the changing of seasons and environment. Those long and dreary days. How we wish they would just be over. Yet so many live as if all days are dreary. As if the shade won’t fall away, as if they have nothing to prepare for. There’s no respect in sitting in your overcast mind when the sun is out. 

Can you expect growth if you don’t put yourself in the environment that cultivates it? And maybe you don’t know what it looks like to grow, and maybe you don’t know what it’s like to improve. But have you not seen the trees? For their green leaves turn to brown as if all that growing amounted to nothing. Where’s the life in seeing that as a loss? Would springtime be as beautiful had we not seen the dark and dull woods? In a similar way, we live the way nature does. So stop saying you don’t know what it looks like to be better. The trees have taken advantage of the space they’re in. Anchored in what’s familiar, but unwavering to the challenges of the wind, the cold, the dark, the sun. 

So is the same with the conversation had on the tailgate. There was this pang, on my side and theirs, to stoop and wait. To chase after that shade, and after it left, to sit there and burn. This gradual burn that looked like misery. Mainly a misery in believing that the normalities of our lives amounted to living a life that was worth dying for. But we all know it’s not. Look at the trees! It looks like they might be close to death when the snow falls. Naked out in the cold. I’d rather die. And maybe they get close to it. But they don’t. There seems to be some sort of song they sing when the cold snaps and the breeze turns gentle:

We say “Be joyful!” We sing it together

The growth and sunshine

We see good weather. 

With green leaves upon us

Our resilience is shown

And birds bid their chipping-

His glory be known.

We saw him suffer

We saw him die

And when he gave up his Spirit

We all turned to cry.

There was no hope in the season that changed

But thank God he’s back-

True growth is displayed.

To see the way he lived

The humble life before us

To see the way he rose

The humble life he bore us.