When I was preparing to come home for the summer after my first year of college ended, I cried knowing things wouldn’t be the same next year.
When I was packing to move back in for my second year, my mom cried knowing that me leaving this time was different.
When I was talking to a friend after a week or two of being at school, she cried knowing things felt different.
The routine and steadiness of this past year became so comfortable that the new beginnings everyone was experiencing became overwhelming rather than exciting.
But the problem didn’t lie in the newness of what I was experiencing, it lay in the comfort of what I had experienced.
The overwhelming sense of “new” that was surrounding my life as I left home to go to college where nearly everything had changed from the year before had sent a shock to all my senses. While I was consciously aware that things were going to be different, it didn’t register until I actually felt the differences. But as I was in class writing a reflection of my week I realized that this shock to my senses was exactly what I needed to get out of the content mindset I was in.
There’s nothing wrong with being comfortable, but there is some danger in being content. I had gotten so comfortable in my way of life last year that I had also become content, not feeling the need for or even wanting change. So much so that when change happened I didn’t know how to respond.
But the new beginnings that are taking place in nearly every aspect of my life have served me well and reminded me not only to be careful about becoming content, but to appreciate change as well.
I know that with all the new things I am experiencing I will continue to grow into the person I want to be and learn each step of the way.
I hope you learn to appreciate and see the beauty in change as well.
When I was in high school I was very active in band and choir. I played clarinet for roughly seven years and I sang in the choir for two. In my time in the music department, I’ve heard and played a lot of songs that have spoken to me on a level that can only be reached by music or literature. However, no piece has touched me more than “On a Hymnsong of Phillip Bliss” by David Holsinger. If you have ever heard the phrase, be it in song or poem, “it is well with my soul,” this song is inspired from the story behind that phrase.
In the late-1800’s, a man was planning a trip for he and his family to go to Europe. Right before the time of departure, the man was needed in Chicago and had to stay in the states to take care of some business, but he decided to send his wife and daughters on the ship to Europe as planned and he would follow them later on. However, after a few days, the man received a phone call from his wife who had landed in Europe informing him that the boat had been struck during its journey and sank within minutes – only she and a few survivors had made their way safety, his daughters not being a part of that few. Soon after, the man got on another ship to join his wife.
The story goes that as the ship was sailing overseas near the point where his daughters had drowned, the man was overcome with grief but turned to God. Here he was, in the midst of heartache and despair, turning upwards to God and saying, “When peace like a river attendth my way / when sorrows like sea-billows roll / whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to know; / it is well, it is well with my soul.”
I played this piece at least once a year for three years in a row, and every time I played it I found myself in tears. There’s something unbelievably powerful about a faith so strong that it can give you peace at a time where peace seems unthinkable. I know everyone goes through heartache and they experience pain on different levels than the ones around them, but how often, in the midst of that hurt, can you remember turning to God and thinking that it is well with your soul? For three years now, this song, this poem, and this story, are a constant reminder to me that while trials may come and hardship will bear it’s way into my life, I know I will always be reassured of God’s support in my helpless state and it will always, always, be well with my soul.
“Home is where the heart is.”
“Home is not a place, it’s a feeling.”
“Home – a place your feet may leave but your heart will always be.”
The longer I’m away from home, the more I begin to question what “home” actually is. When I leave school for breaks, it no longer feels like I’m going home – it just feels like leaving school. But I feel at home when I spend late nights at a donut shop with one of my best friends, or when I go on random Target runs with my literal BFF. I even feel at home when I spend hours in the car talking to my brother about life and all it encompasses. I don’t feel at home when I’m at home. I feel at home when I’m sitting in the nearby soda shop hanging out with my college friends. I feel at home when we spend hours in the library studying, when really we’re just hanging out. But I don’t feel at home when I’m at college. So, what is home?
Maybe there’s more validity to these sayings than we can understand until we venture out to find our own sense of home. I stumbled upon one quote by Matsuo Basho that says, “Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.” I’m not sure Matsuo could have gotten any closer to the truth. We spend our whole lives wandering from one place to the other – sometimes we’ll stay for a while, other times we’ll leave about as soon as we got there. It’s because of this that calling a place a home can be difficult. But I think we do a pretty good at job and finding a home within the journey. We try new things, spend time with the people we love, and we push forward to tomorrow. And all the while, we find ourselves at home over and over again.
Eat the donut- it might bring you home.