It was a classic Southern California summer day. Puffy, white clouds scattered across blue skies paired with basking in the sun temperatures. More than anything, I wanted to be racing toward the beach, radio blasting, friends laughing in the back seat.
Anywhere but the dingy bathroom stall where I was sobbing uncontrollably.
The worst thing about these messy, burned out, bitter tears? They were self-inflicted. No one had broken my heart or stabbed me in the back. These were the tears that come when you think you know better, then have to stare your mistake square in the face.
My college advisor had cautioned me that after maxing out on units the semester before, working part-time, and completing an internship, trying to cram an 18-week anatomy class into a 6-week summer session was not at all “advisable.” Because that’s what advisors do—give wise advice.
But twenty somethings with a bend toward perfection and an I’ve-got-this mentality, don’t listen. They chart their own course, then end up a puddle begging for a course drop slip.
I wish I could tell you I learned my lesson that day. I wish. I wish. I wish. The thing is, I’m prone to self-inflicted over-commitment. Somewhere on the double helix of my DNA is this trace of genetics that pushes me to do more so that I’ll be more…worthy, successful, satisfied.
The ironic thing is, I’m also wired with a total aversion to unpredictability, uncertainty, and plans gone awry. It’s as messy as it sounds up in here.
When the going gets tough, my flesh screams quit. It justifies the easy way out. But my spirit—the Spirit of God alive in me—whispers, “Not so fast, Jesus girl.”
I’m thrilled to be sharing this [mildly messy, but oh so good] story over at Shannon Geurin’s Fiercely His blog for her Fierce Friday series. Shannon and I shared in The Testimony Tour together and it’s been pure joy getting to know her more. I know you’ll love her too!
Hop on over to read what God has taught me about predictability, plans and surrender…