I’ve been saving stories, catching beauty and remember this and don’t let this slip away for days, weeks. Maybe the whole semester.
I thought, just now, that maybe I’d like to open my heart, unlatch the fences and gates and swing them open and just let everything escape. I’d let fall every memory, every lesson. Every moment left unprocessed because there was no time, and every time I stored something away in my mind, telling myself I’d come back later. I’d dump out every experience; every happy, every sad, every hurt, every selfish.
I’d dump it all out, spread it out on the big blue rug, because I’m home now. I’d sit right in the middle, among all these moments and words and lessons and stories, and I’d go through them, one by one. I’d pick them up, weigh them in my hands. Important? Deep? Valuable? Doubtless. I’d look at them, study them. Re-learn them. Learn what I missed the first time, see what I didn’t, feel what I wouldn’t let myself.
And then I’d write it all down.
I’d sort those moments and words and thoughts and feelings and lessons-already-learned and lessons-still-to-be-learned into piles and categories and types, and then I’d write every single one of them down. Because this semester, this school, was valuable in ways I recognize now, and ways that maybe I’ll never know. I can tell you some things that I learned- about myself and my heart and the Bible and the world and life- but I can’t tell you everything I learned yet.
Because I’m still learning.
I suppose this desire, this drive, to write, write, write, and so remember, and so understand, is mostly selfish. I want to see, I want to hold, I want to wrap myself in the good that I learned and saw and heard and experienced. I want to have those things in me, with me, in writing, forever.
But it’s not just to remember. Life is nothing when lived in rewind. Doesn’t go anywhere, either. I didn’t see, live, hear, learn, so that I could write. I saw so that I can see more. I lived so that I can live better. I heard so that I can think better, say better. I learned- I am learning- so that I can grow.
Grow more like Christ.
Less like the me. Human me, fallen me.
Grow to love other people more.
And love my own way less.
Grow to listen to His words more.
So that I can share then with others, and live by them myself.
I still want to empty a semester’s worth- a year’s worth- of life out of my mind, out of my heart, onto the carpet. I still want to sit amongst them, rummage through them, mull and ponder and consider. Remember. I still want to do all those things. But not just to write them; to write, and in doing so, to learn.