It is said that students do an immense amount of growing between their freshman and sophomore year. By looking at these posts and talking to ya’ll, I see this is true. I am extremely proud to call you guy friends (and family, hehehe.) Each and every one of you has done something incredibly brave and/or mature. I was pondering this last night as I sat on my couch eating cereal (Shredded Wheat, not a smart choice, I was up the rest of the night contemplating cutting my insides out) and watching mindless sitcoms. I realized that so far, most of my summer has been spent in front of the computer, or the TV, or playing video games. I’m getting better at Halo 2! (Although I’m still royally bad!) Part of this is because I wanted to make a scrapbook of my freshman year of college, because I’m not sure if I’ll have a sophomore, junior, or senior year. So I’ve been playing with my pictures a lot. I’ve been staying up later & later & have quickly become almost completely nocturnal, as you guys may have noticed.
Now by nature I’m not someone who takes well to being still. I like to be out there doing something. I love going places & being involved in projects. I love helping people (or plants). I haven’t do much of anything this summer. The excuse I gave: I was keeping my schedule open in case I found a job. It started out grounded in wisdom, part of the reason I couldn’t get a job in high school was because I was always too busy. But after almost a month, I’m still unemployed. It’s kind of funny, I have 2 job applications laying on the couch next to me. One is half filled out & the other untouched. I keep saying I’ll “get to them” or “fill them out later.” I’ve been saying that for about two weeks. And yet, as CO can attest to, I’m still complaining about not having a job. Part of the problem is jobs are scarce here. Very few places can afford to hire someone for 3 months. But there are places. I have allowed myself to get discouraged. I have let my human fear of rejection get the better of me & have retreated into a shell of sloth. Sure, I’ve done some Latin, read some history, but nothing that’d get me past the 5th grade. (Well, maybe that’s an under exaggeration.)
This morning, I went out to check my flowers. I first went to my roses. The one looked fine. Nothing extraordinary, nothing bad. The other pot looked like I felt, withered, tired, & kind of grumpy. It had plenty of water, plenty of sun, but not too much of either. The other pot had exactly the same & was doing fine. I made a note to give it some fertilizer & maybe spend some time with it, then moved on to my African Violet. It was there that I had my revelation. For this to be significant, I must go back to the beginning. (I’m so sorry this post is getting long!)
This little flower’s story goes back to sometime mid 2nd semester. I had my flowers by Kateri's room at the end of the hall in what became the Campion Mary Garden. Occasionally girls added their own flowers to the mix. One day a little African Violet showed up. I didn’t think anything of it, until after spring break. Thanks to CO, I made sure my flowers had ample water while I was gone, but this poor little flower had none. When I arrived back at school, my flowers were just happy little things, but the violet was almost totally brown. It’s blossoms had fallen off & it’s one remaining leaf was curled almost beyond recognition. Carducci convinced me to try to bring it back to life. After about a week of tlc, the disfigured leaf had fallen off, but miracle! a new, healthy, green one had taken it’s place. In less than two weeks, it had beautiful delicate purple blossoms. I took care of the flower for the rest of the year & it flourished. At the end of the year, I figured it’s owner (I still didn’t know who it belonged to) would claim it. Plus I had plenty to try to figure out where my plants were going to go & how I was going to take my roses on the plane. As I was getting my final things in order, I noticed the African Violet was still on the table with my roses. Almost everyone was gone from my wing except my Laura & I. It had been abandoned! It didn’t take much deliberation to figure what I needed to do. I had been loathe to leave that little thing in the first place. So along with my roses, I wrapped it up in plastic wrap & put it in my carry on. As soon as I got home, I unwrapped my poor flowers. My roses seemed stunned, but after a couple of days, they bounced back. The African Violet was a different story. Every time I looked at it, there was more brown. 1st the blossoms died, then the leaves, then the stems. I had never seen anything living so dead. I felt so guilty for killing it. I really loved that plant. I felt selfish for trying to bring it home with me, when obviously I should’ve found a home for it in VA. But I kept watering it & putting it in the sun, just as it liked it. I don’t know why I did so. It had no leaves, how could it possibly come back? There was just no way. Then a couple of days ago, as I watered it, I noticed something green peeking out of the dirt. I dared not hope, but did anyway. And this morning I saw what I had been hoping for. A leaf! An new, healthy, green leaf. That’s when it struck me. If my African Violet can come back from almost certain death twice, I can continue trying to find a job or do something that would be a good use of my time. If there’s one thing I learned last summer, it’s time is precious; our time on Earth is limited. Even if I live to be 100, I don’t have enough time to waste 1 minute, much less a whole summer. So from this point on, the WP is getting off her duff & do whatever God wants right now, right here, with what I’ve been given. I will not think what I’m going to do once I get to the nunvent or back to school or if I get a job. I’ve had my head so far in the future, it’s finally hit my posterior & now I think I’m back where I belong. I’ve decided it really doesn’t matter what state my body’s in, as long as my mind’s in the right one!