Exactly ninety-nine days ago, I joined the working world as a full-time member. Ninety-nine days ago I began the life that I had spent my entire life preparing for.
In kindergarten I prepared for elementary school. Despite the time I decided Play-Doh looked tempting enough to taste, they let me move forward. In elementary school, I prepared for middle school. In middle school, I lost my mind. At least, that's the only reasonable explanation for my heinous fashion choices. And somehow, even with braces, glasses and scrunchies, I made it to high school, where they tell you that your performance here sets the tone for how you will do in college, and college sets the tone for the rest of your life in the real world.
So I'm here, in the real world. And now that I've arrived, I find myself living for the weekends, living for that precise time when I am not working, when I am not doing what my life has been preparing me for.
It strikes me as very odd, that the real world, that big, momentous thing we strive and prepare for is the one thing so many people seem to do their best to avoid once they've gotten there.
And then, you have that lucky bunch that simply loves what they do. They have found that beautiful equilibrium where the heart's desire meets another's need.
And that is what I, in my infinite ninety-nine days of working world wisdom have come to know more and more, that this is what we were all created for: to live out the truest desires of our hearts because in some mystical and miraculous way, it will work out for us.
I don't have much proof for this bold statement, just faith and a few promises from people older and wiser than I.
Living for the weekend is no way to live. I want to live for each and every moment. I want to see the miracle of time in every second, and the miracle of the human person in every interaction. I want to live a life that is worthy of the attention that God pays it.
And I want to live up to the dramatic way I write things, but life is not a blog. Sometimes life is awkward. Sometimes life is sad. Sometimes you want to eat your words, or bury your head in the sand because you very accidentally insulted your boss. Sometimes you burn your toast. Sometimes you want to cry for no obvious reason. Sometimes your heart is broken.
But thank God for broken hearts. A hardened heart is in prime shape for being shattered into zillions of tiny indistinguishable jigsaw-like pieces. And Jesus is so good at puzzles. Let me tell you. When you are trying to find your vocation, and you completely and miserably fail at loving someone, and your heart gets broken on Valentine's Day through modern technology, Jesus can put that heart back together.
When you move to a big city, away from the salty-aired breezy lifestyle you were accustomed to, so that you can work 13 hours a day and sleep on a futon until you find furniture, Jesus gives you the strength to get up in the mornings, crack your futon-stiffened back, and go to work smiling.
The real world is not the end result. We prepared for it, certainly, but life is a continual preparation process for something much greater. We shouldn't live for the weekends, we should live for eternity. While we live presently, that is, for eternity, God is preparing for us. He is setting aside places in heaven for all of his most darling loves. He works fervently to mend our broken hearts. I am not wise and rich in the experiences that come with old age, but I can count at least ninety-nine ways Jesus has used a broken heart to bring peace and joy.
