Recall this scenario. You’re at the tail end of your final year of college. You’re ripping your hair out as you eagerly finish your final papers and cram information into your brain in preparation for the last of your final exams of your undergraduate degree. You’re almost there and you can almost smell and feel the magnificent glory of finally walking across the stage at graduation. You can’t wait to be done with school, having dedicating almost two whole decades of your life so you can get to this moment right now. You can’t wait to start your full time job working in the field that you’ve dedicated your early adulthood studying. But then what? What happens when all of the excitement dies down and your life plateaus?
Let me preface this post by clarifying a few things. I’m not seeking validation. I’m not seeking attention. I don’t want sympathy. I don’t claim to know the answer to everyone’s struggles. These are my experiences, and the reason why I’ve never done more than briefly reference my struggles is that, until recently, I didn’t think it was anyone else’s business but mine. But given recent events and the growing conversations, I figured now is the time to be a part of the conversation.
Pure. Extraordinary. Comforting, Overwhelming. These are just a few words that come to mind when I ponder God’s unfailing (oh look, another word) love that I feel each and everyday. At this point, it’s no giant secret that I am a child of God. But while my faith isn’t something that I keep hidden, I’ve come to realize that it’s not exactly something I talk too much about, either. This may be because I don’t feel like I have the adequate theological knowledge that a lot of my friends have, or that I’m very much still learning what it’s like to live a life alongside Christ. But the one thing that I am sure of that I think I can adequately detail in a blog post is my understanding of God’s love. So, friends, whether you are a believer or not, I invite you to peer into this large part of my life. If you felt a tug on your heart as soon as you read that title, and if you still feel that tug getting this far into my post, I urge you to read on – hopefully this post will serve as some threshold to your own path of understanding God’s love.
Growing up, I’ve always associated tattoos with hooliganism, rebellion, and just about everything else that went with those things. As time went on, I started to notice that tattoos weren’t just things that inmates got behind the bars of prison, and criminals of the streets weren’t the only ones who got tattoos. I began to notice the art behind them and the meaning the symbols had to the person wearing the tattoo. Getting a tattoo has been something that’s been on my mind over the past few years, but given the chance that I actually built up the courage (and saved enough money) to go in and get inked, I knew whatever I would get had to mean something to me. I’ve had an idea in mind for awhile, and yesterday was the day I finally decided, “You know what? I’m going to do it.”
Another ten weeks have come and gone, and over those ten weeks, I experienced changes, disappointment, and lots of stress eating. Ultimately, though, I dedicated the past ten weeks to self improvement and soul searching.