Meg Dowell Writes

Another year has passed. Two more semesters have run their course; our lives are not the same. A year ago, we were broken. We were in denial and we were giving way to our genetically inherited stubbornness. Now another set of classes are coming to a close.

Take a moment; look back. Where were you then? Where are you now?

A year ago today, I was home. I spent the day unpacking boxes, suitcases, and memories. I thought that I was in control of my fears, desires, and future. Now, I am sitting in a pink desk chair in the middle of a cluttered dorm room. Tonight will be my last night sleeping under the same roof as several hundred other women I have hardly gotten the pleasure of knowing. Next year, apartment life will take my word and shake it to its core. I will have two roommates instead of one. I will dive deeper into the plans I have come to believe Jesus has for my life.

This coming summer will have its differences from my last. I will still read, still write, and still bake in the long-awaited sunshine. But I will also take classes that will test my limits, as well as the true desires of my remarkably confused heart. I will visit with the friends that matter and pray for the ones who have come to believe that they don’t. My favorite TV show will end. I’ll launch into full-blown half marathon training. Maybe I’ll fall in love.

This is the first time since I arrived on campus in August that I have gathered enough bravery within myself to reflect on where I have come from. Trapped between the halls and crowds of high school, I could not bring myself to dare to shine. The person I wanted to be was just out of my reach. I knew I wanted to be a leader, but never thought I could. I trusted too easily, fell too hard, and always found myself wondering what would happen once graduation held me in the palm of its hand, thrust a diploma at my chest, and told me to grow up and move on with my life.

College, the idea of tearing myself away from familiarity and people I thought I couldn’t live without, made my stomach churn. I spent the first week of my freshman year drowning in homesickness and nonstop tears. I never thought I would make it, never believed that fitting in to a university whose admissions slogan reads “We believe. You belong here” was even possible for someone like me. I was an English major and creative writing minor with a dream of becoming a world-renowned novelist. Then I made friends, dove head-first into my fears, and everything changed.

I left campus at the end of my freshman year thinking I knew what I was getting myself into. I still held onto the same dreams. I was just beginning to learn what trusting the Lord, and His plans for my life, really meant. I didn’t think He would test me beyond my confidence in what I had spent most of my life believing was meant for me.

Sophomore year, the definition of which I have yet to weave together in a short string of explanatory words, has done its very best to destroy me. Amidst endless attempts at destruction, I have gathered strength from a God I thought had no interest in taking my life and changing its direction, strength that has dragged (not carried) me through months of confusion, stress, and hopeless denial. I am in awe as my reflection shimmers in the puddles of raindrops beneath my unsteady heels. Who am I, that God would care enough to show me through my struggles that He is not finished with me yet?

My dream of being a writer has not faded, though this is the first time I have been able to sit down and let words flow from my heart since Christmas. I no longer know how the Lord plans to use my talent and passion for His glorification. All I can do is write nonstop, about whatever lands within my mind, and hope that someday it will change someone’s life.

Now that I have plunged myself into a new and frightening world, one whose analytical topics and factual occurrences often leave me feeling as if I’m heading straight into uncharted darkness, the number of challenges that I have been forced (and have yet) to climb over has tripled in quantity. If I had remained a simple English major, I do not know where I would be. Boredom would have taken its hold on me. Likely, I would not be writing this. I would have given up. Dietetics has a place for me, somewhere, even if it’s now or years down the road. I am not in denial of my purpose. There is a reason; I am on a mission, as I write this, to find it.

I do not know the plans God has for me, but Jeremiah 29:11 brings peace into my life. God knows; He always has, and always will. I did not pass chemistry with a C, but a C-. I did not master prescriptive grammar or begin to learn a new language as I had hoped. Instead, I allowed my heart to open itself to new possibilities. I am learning that trust is not a rabid alien with a rope to drag me down, but instead a misunderstood life-saver whose hands may be cold but are reaching out to pull me back onto my feet. I no longer trust too easily; I trust just enough to help myself in the only way I know how.

I am learning who am. And what more could anyone ask of me? I am short-tempered. I am stubborn, I go after what I want without looking back, and I am vulnerable. But I am not alone. They told me college would change me. In what way, exactly, I did not know. Whether or not this knowledge has dawned on me is hard to say for sure. What I can say is that I have not emerged from the past four semesters unchanged. What I struggle with makes me stronger. What I fear will drive me to do great things someday. I am impatient, but I have faith in what the future holds.

I can visualize life after death. And when death decides to take control of my destiny, I have chosen not to be afraid. Rather than crying tears of anguish, uncertainty and self-consciousness, I will cry tears of joy. I will feel no pain. When others look at me, I will smile in recognition. And as I run into the arms of my Savior, He will hold me as He has always done. Looking back at the trials I endured, He will tell me I did well. I will have served Him because of my obedience, faith, and love. I will have done everything that was in HIs plan for me to do.

I am not confident. I am walking with my eyes closed, my hand outstretched, knowing that I am being led in the right direction. I no longer base decision on what I believe will ensure my success in life, but instead on the future that is waiting for me straight ahead. I may stumble, but who hasn’t tripped on the devious cracks of a sidewalk once or twice? The correct path is hidden from view, but trust in a God who cares for me will lead me down its winding curves regardless. I am not wasting my time. Everything that I have been through, matters.

With my heart, body, mind, and soul, I will move forward. The only things that hold me back are the forces that are out of my control. And that, my friends, is a battle Jesus will fight for me until the day I meet him face-to-face.

Be strong. Your life and all its blessings serve a purpose in someone else’s journey.

Love&hugs, Meg<3