Introduction: Each moment in life is a season or a chapter. I like to think that where I am now, is the warm up of a race. And now as graduation approaches, I’m lining up at the starting line.
Starting the Race
“You’re not allowed to graduate,” my supervisor, Mrs. Hallman, said to me as she sat next to my desk at work. For the past two and a half years, I have worked as a Student Editor for the Summit Yearbook. When I first got the job at the end of my freshman year, I was ecstatic; this was an opportunity given to me by God. My first day on the job, I was like a deer in headlights. I had no idea what I was doing and probably caused a lot more problems than I should have. But this year, when Mrs. Hallman told me how valuable I had become, I realized just how much I had grown. I no longer had to stop and think about what to do when she asked me to schedule photographers. I didn’t have to look up the procedures for researching and writing captions; everything had become second nature. Instead of being the trainee, I had become the trainer, as new faces joined our team.
However, when new faces emerge, that usually means that the old ones are getting ready to leave. In this case, that old one is me. I’m the one graduating college and, consequently, leaving a place and work I had become so accustomed to.
Coming into this semester, I had known it was my last year. I knew that after these next coming months, I would be leaving Pensacola Christian College. But until Mrs. Hallman had spoken those five words, it hadn’t truly hit me. My brain just hadn’t accepted the fact that life was again changing.
In most ways, this change is exciting. I get to walk across the stage, shake Dr. Shoemaker’s hand, and grab my diploma. I finally get to hold that single piece of paper that I spent so many late nights and early mornings working for. There would be no more tests or quizzes. Just me, standing at the starting line of life. However, sometimes I feel like I’m waiting at the starting line with a blind fold on; I have no idea what the future looks like ahead.
This new phase of my life is like starting fresh. I’m going to start a new job and, once again, be in over my head. At the start, I’ll probably be bewildered at where I’m supposed to go and what I am supposed to do—just like when I arrived at PCC. With each new experience in my life, I’ll grab hold of the reins and pretend I know what I’m doing, as I did when I joined the yearbook staff. Once again, I will be the trainee—the novice runner—feigning confidence.
The fact of the matter is, when we all leave here for summer, there are a select group of us that won’t be returning in three months. Every runner, eventually, has to move on from where they are and challenge themselves to reach new levels—to go farther, and run faster. Soon, I and other seniors will move on from college and challenge ourselves with whatever new race is before us. We will not be registering for classes in the fall. We won’t be here for move in day, and we won’t be here for syllabus week. Soon, we will say goodbye to our fellow runners on our college race. That family we’ve bonded, battled, and boasted with is now saying “see you later.” We will go off and start new race. We will start the process over again with new people and a new family that God has placed along our path. It’s time to say goodbye to college and welcome adulthood with open arms.
Though we may not know what lies ahead, there is one who does know. God is going to bring the right people into my life and other’s lives for the right moment like he did when we started here, and for that we can rest easy. For many of us, when we say goodbye in May, we say goodbye and start another journey. One day, we will meet again. But until then, we’re moving on. We’re starting our new race.
