The Keys to Searching

Notoriously, I lose my keys. 

Having a spacial memory, I can distinctly remember the circumstances around which I lost the keys, but the parameters can fit any number of places, which makes finding them incredibly difficult. 

Yesterday, my fiance and I went to my grandmother's to pick up a few things with my mom. 

Right before we left, I misplaced the keys, sending us on a 45 minute hunt. 

It was incredibly frustrating, especially because there was an extremely limited number of places where they could have gone to. 

The four of us searched and searched and, at a certain point, as I was hunting through a basket of blankets there was no chance of my keys being in, I found myself thinking, "I have to find them. I'm hunting so thoroughly." 

Immediately upon thinking that, though, I had a counter thought: "It doesn't matter how thoroughly or diligently you search; if you're looking in the wrong place, you'll still never find it." 

This gave me a lot of pause, as I considered in how many areas of our lives, not just in mine, we find ourselves "searching for _____ in all the wrong places." 

It takes a lot of practice and self-control and patience to begin your search in the right place. 

I found my keys. 

Facing my car, I gave an exasperated sigh and through up my hands, which shifted my perspective. 

There, draped very clearly just above the back door, were my keys. 

All four of us had missed them. Rather than looking up, we focused our energy in dark places we'd already looked, tearing apart the car and house over and over again, even though we knew knew knew they weren't there. 

But, since we didn't have any ideas, we kept looking in the familiar places. 

Sometimes, it takes giving up to find what you're looking for. 

Money Matters

We're currently in the most grueling portion of my job: financial aid season.

This is, essentially, the moment of truth.

It consistently shocks me how little I understand of human nature.

Some awards I look at and think, "Oh. Crap. This is a terrible award letter. They were so close to receiving the Pell grant, their parent loan is way too high for their EFC (expected family contribution), etc. They're not going to be able to swing this."

Then it's those same families that call me back so grateful for our department's generosity, determined to make this work, and talk to me about values, about call, and about the feeling of belonging.

I leave those conversations feeling hopeful about what it is I do. I can see a full map of their financial situation, I know the truth. They feel that this is where the Lord is leading them, though, and I can't argue. Granted, I get a little irked when they call me up and tell me that "God told me to go to another college", but I remember very clearly how called I felt to come to this university. It felt right. It felt like home.

Other families, however, make me feel less inspired about human nature.

Sir, I can see how many hundreds of thousands you make a year, how you have a million in investments, and how you have 50-90k in cash savings alone. And only one child. Do not for one second try to make me believe you can only afford 1k a year for your child's education.

And, while those conversations truly annoy me, they say something about a families values.

"It's not God's will for Billy to take any kind of student loan, so we're going to have to find other options through your school." [Read: We're too busy to look for outside scholarships and we don't want loans, so it's your responsibility to pay for his education]. No, ma'am. Budgeting and finances can be really rough and looking for outside scholarships can be tiring, but it is not our responsibility.

"We want to build a house soon, so we won't be helping Suzy with college finances. What other scholarships can you offer her?" [Read: We want a pool more than Suzy's education]

"I know I could save money by living with my parents, but it's just a real burden to have to commute that far, so I need to find other financing options through the university" [Read: Even though I could save 9k a year by living at home, I don't want to drive half an hour. Find me more money somewhere else]

I could go on. I see a lot of goodness in people, but I also see a lot of ugliness. I also see a lot of fear. Some parents I speak with are willing to risk everything because their child loves my school, but they are afraid. Sometimes, it's just close enough to work. Sometimes I have to guide them through the process of redesigning their dreams, deferring them, or awaken a different dream. It's hard.

It truly isn't that I'm coldblooded about financial aid. Believe me, I well remember the agonizing worry that I wouldn't be able to afford this school. But my parents knew and I knew that this was it for me, this was home. They sacrificed and saved and we made it work.

Because at the end of the day, money isn't about money.
Money is about values and about the heart.

And nobody wants a 24 year old girl trying to cast $100,000 vision for their child.

Quarter Life Crisis

Don't get me wrong--I lead a pretty charmed life.

I don't make a lot, but I make enough for a roof, food, and generosity to others. In the end, that's all you really need. I love my family, my housemates are kind are loving, my fiance (yeah I'm engaged now) is a great match for me, my job provides me with financial resources and good friends, Northwest Arkansas (for all its chicken smells and bad cousin-kissin' jokes) is actually a wonderful place to live, and we even are in the process of buying a home.

All good things.

In the quiet moments, though, as I'm responding to emails in my half-cubicle, dressed in a blazer, heels, and slacks, I wonder how I've let myself become myself.

I wrote a poem while in college about flowers and domestication which included the bitter line, "twist me beautiful, make me useful" and the hope that, if the flower were quiet enough, no one would notice its freedom and commandeer it.

Though high-strung, achievement-drivenness is something which has always characterized me, free-spiritedness did as well.

Yes, I scored highly in high school, but I made my final speech colorful and snarky. Yes, I scored highly in college, but I never ceased to attempt to overthrow the academic lead blanket. Even in my Master's program, I combined different subjects, drew from erraticisms, and made brand new arguments. I didn't score high, but I was original.

Barefoot, loose-haired, sun-dressed, sun-kissed, nerdy. I've always struggled with fitting in, but fitting "me" has never felt such a struggle.

I've traded in my whole self it feels like, and I don't fit here in this world.
Is this what every mid-twenties person feels like? Is this growing up, or is this what it feels like to betray your personhood?

I've always believed that God doesn't give us gifts or passions without the desire to use them, but maybe I'm wrong. And, if I were to be honest with myself, I don't even know what a profession selected for my gifts and passions would look like. I've forgotten how to do anything other than waking up, sitting at my desk, going home to Netflix, and falling asleep at a decent hour.

I'm boring.
And everything else sounds absolutely exhausting.
Because, yes, change is at my fingertips.
But I'm tired. I'm in an open-office layout, and my job forces me to be extroverted all day long. No, I don't want to hang out with more humans after work. Perpetual input and output exhausts me for anything other than soul-numbing sitcoms.

We don't work to live; we live to work.

A week or two ago, it was time to decide whether or not to renew my contract. I took multiple skill assessment tests online to see what kind of profession my particular set of differences would make me suited for.

"Craftsman" isn't going to get me far. I'll end up as a John-the-Baptist-in-the-Wilderness type woman with an Etsy store and three teeth.
But would I be happy? Would I feel fulfilled?