the end of the semester.

I had a beautiful morning. I stood in a gallery with the three girls I spent the majority of my last three weeks with (five all-nighters, midnight coffee runs to Trappeze, finishing our night at the studio with the sun rising over downtown) and for about an hour and a half we presented our final project to two of the Interior Design faculty. Both of the men taught us in our earliest studio classes as ID majors, and we were finally able to receive feedback on the project we invested the last three months in. We filled all the wall space in the gallery with our project boards. Sixteen total and twelve material boards. 

As I walked out to my car after our presentation I stopped in the parking lot and realized, I think for the first time, how much time and how much of my heart I put into that project this semester. And it wasn't even because I love design or I love my major (although this morning I really did). But being in the studio this semester became a place where I am safe. It is a place where I can do something well. A place I know I should be, at least right now. And there is safety in knowing that work is pleasing to the Lord, and that by doing it I know that at least one thing in my life is in place.

That project was miserable and it was beautiful. And I'm really not sure why because I'm absolutely not passionate about designing fictional 5-star hotels in Tokyo. But when one of the teacher's critiquing our project today looked me in the eyes and told me one of our spaces was beautifully designed and beautifully rendered I almost cried. Really. Which yes, is kind of funny. And yes, it had a lot to do with sleep deprivation (12 hours in the last 4 days). But also - it was proof that it was over. We had finished. And we hadn't wasted our time making something meaningless. Because in that one moment something I spent hundreds of hours creating was beautiful in someone else's eyes.

And also...a couple weeks ago I didn't think I was going to make it. I haven't woken up in the last two months without my joints and muscles aching deeply, and no doctor can figure out why. And honestly, it crushed my spirit. I cannot handle that I'm not the person the Lord wants me to be right now. I wish I could take a deep breathe and believe with all of me that even if this physical pain never goes away, the pain in my heart that it is causing will. I owe it to Him to believe that. But I don't know how. And when I lose any amount of hope I also lose my desire to create, which for me includes designing, painting, drawing, and writing. The last three I have completely cut out of my life in the last two months, but I couldn't cut out designing even though everything inside of me has been screaming that it just doesn't matter. 

I forgot about the beauty.

When people get sick, all their dreams turn to smoke and drift away. And I wonder if they ever come back to how they were before. I wonder if I will ever be the girl I was before I started giving up so easily. I miss her courage. Her bravery. Her stubborn willfulness to believe that despite what we see, there is more to this world. 

I saw hope this morning as I walked out of the ID building for the last time this semester. There were times lately that I have been in so much pain I didn't think I could finish out the semester with anywhere near the amount of work completed that was expected of me. But He helped. He helped. And that means He was there. The whole time. Fighting for me when I had nearly given up.

I wish I was stronger. Like Matt Chandler, I wish I could stand in front of you and say that even though everything is uncertain I am not afraid. But I can't. I don't even know if I ever will. 

But I do know is good. He is here. He is sovereign and He is loving. He is listening. I am his beloved even when I don't deserve it and even when the physical pain I am in doesn't make any sense. But dang...I wish I wasn't so afraid. 

We are so human. I am so glad He is not.