Change.
Over the past years, I have found myself being pulled under the blankets with my past, tossing, turning, scratching at painful memories, and giggling with joyous ones while wielding flashlights past bedtime. This duet of me and my mind has been a tradition of sorts that I have been longing to break. At one point I learned from a friend to live day by day. Eventually, I fell back into the habit of looking behind me instead of just in front of me or around me. I have forgotten how to be prepared.
One could laugh at how my major in college right now is History. I tend to look at times past and become preoccupied with the rearview mirror instead of the windshield. The whole purpose to learn history, however, is to understand how it caused today. I need to relearn how to hold on to where I came from, keep my focus on the here and now, and still be able to try and prepare for what is to come next.
However, today I realized why I have been so challenged in living for the day lately. I have discovered a fear that is gripping me so strongly that I can barely even breathe. The fear of change.
Within the past year or so I have...
Changed from high school to college
Lost my grandpa, the only father-figure in my life that I can actually remember
Seen my only grandmother move to Florida where I may never even see her again due to depleted funds for traveling
Had my heart broken by a man I loved for over four years
Met a man that I later discover would love me and not give up on me, unlike so many former beaus
Befriend many people that I possibly would have never have been able to meet had I not made past mistakes
Become a whole new person...
I have no regrets from this past year, let it be known. I am not complaining in the least. Although it is always heartbreaking to have a family member die and another move away, I understand that the Lord I believe in had a purpose for these events. I am beginning to see them, too, but that is a story for another day. My year has been no better or worse than the next 19 year old to come along.
The only difference between another woman my age and me is how we react. I have reacted with fear from the changes. Today's story made me see the angelic monster change is and how I should not be afraid.
It was 5:15 PM and I had just arrived at Office Depot after a morning filled with washing and vacuuming my car, discovering a flat tire, waiting in Wal-mart for over an hour to have it fixed, and not eating. Surprisingly, I was not even grumpy. I walked in to the building that smelled of ink and paper, wondering when I would see my current beau in his blue shirt and headset. After speaking for a few moments, he raised his hand to point at one of the doors, smiling. "She came in on her bicycle, which is so neat." I turned my head to look at the woman and instantly ran over to greet her. It was none other than the "informal story-teller" Susan. I shall not state her last name to keep it somewhat mysterious.
"Oh! Hello! ... Please... Remind me of your name again?" For the next forty minutes, I stood by the doors of Office Depot, talking to a woman in a bright blue helmet, bicycle, and knapsacks of odds and ends. I heard of her excitement in being a part of an Iraqi student group that was here for a few weeks and how she had learned so much from them. Her eyes lit up with her stories, seamlessly transitioning from one subject to another, each glorious in her own fervor to tell of her wonders. This Susan woman seemed to be a never-ending supply of love, quirkiness, and smiles.
Then her eyes became red and it seemed as if a tear would fall at any moment. "Lena, I came into the store today to have some copies made, as I have been a loyal customer for years. And a woman I have known for four years was not there today to make my copies. I asked the people behind the counter where she was and it was as if mum's the world. Other people I have known here are gone, too. My mother died earlier this year and I have had so many different things happen to me that I do not even know where I am to go next. I just know I have to keep going. Everything is just changing. It is strange that such a small word has gripped my life, you know? Change... It's a simple, six-letter word that can either make or break you." Susan held my shoulder. It was not an action of stabling herself or seeking comfort. The touching of her hand to my shoulder, though brief and fleeting, was a like an shock. The touch told me that I was not hearing her, I was living what she was saying. Change was a six-letter word, the only constant thing in this world, and we never will know where to go next. We simply must keep going. Even the most beautifully bright, charming, and happy woman I know was moved to tears by simply thinking of the changes happening in her life, the things happening that she could not control.
Susan went on to say, "I'm not afraid of what's happening. I'm just afraid that I'm not reacting right. And then things like this happen that reassure me that I'm still on the right path. You were in Girl Scouts and remember me from camp, BAT camp with the Rudyard Kipling story and "f" word memory ("Focus!"), and then we met after the World Cultures seminar on campus at U of E. And now we meet again here at Office Depot and I am so happy to see your smiling face. You have cut your hair and changed but I still know your face. I am sorry I did not remember your name. Lena. Yes, Lena. But being offered to teach a World Cultures class the next semester (which is really First Year Seminar), that showed me that I was alright. I have not taught a class in twenty-eight years nor given a grade in twenty-five years. I am an unplugged woman with no internet. Yet I was still being given a chance to surround myself with wonderful students, like yourself, Lena. Although I seriously cannot fathom whatever changes are coming up next, I just know that moments like this are what keep me going. Thank you so much for coming over to see me. I am so thankful!"
I have had people thank me for visiting them before, on many occasions. But this woman, who I never though could even fathom a frown if it was not being caused by a sad book, was standing here with a plea in her voice that seemed to say she was helpless yet so thankful to be so. She was on the verge of tears yet holding a smile that could be nothing but sincere, thanking me for showing her that she was walking blindly in the right direction. If that is not brave, I do not know what is. I wish Susan could understand how much I respect her and how her "rambling", as she calls it, inspires me.
It was quite ironic how she told me of how the Iraqi students taught her of Ghandi's famous line, "Be the change you want to see in the world," while she was saying how change was hurtful and beautiful at the same time. One thing I will hopefully show her, in time, is how today she was the change I needed. By her red eyes and honest smile, she showed how a change, her being the physical form of it, could be so painful and so full of hope simultaneously.
Thank you, Susan, for being such a complicated woman personifying a simple, six-letter word that has begun the righting of my train that fell off the tracks so long ago.
A quote she told me after a World Culture's seminar on my college campus is this :
It is easier to sail many thousands of miles through cold and storm and cannibals, ... than it is to explore the private sea, the Atlantic and Pacific of one's being alone. -Henry David Thoreau
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