Sobering up

James 4:13-15 – Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”

Ever read verses and feel completely, utterly, boldly confronted with truth? So, I'm a Type-A, hyper-organized, plan my life for the next several years sort of girl. I'm finishing up my thesis, will graduate with my masters in August, and fully intended to be moving to Poland in September to teach English on a Fulbright. I found out I was a Fulbright finalist in January, and have been waiting ever since to hear if I actually received the grant. Unofficially, Tucker and I have deduced we didn't get it. Ever since last Friday when this epiphany hit, I've been in mourning. I no longer cry every 10 minutes like I did this weekend, but I'm still grieving the death of my dream. I now realize I had been drunk on my dreams, of spending 9 months in Europe, returning stateside to settle down and be adults, start a family, get a house, maybe even buy a minivan (startling but true. They're so much more economical than SUVs.). It may seem silly to claim that I'm "mourning" over the loss of my 6-year-long dream of European-living, but Europe is like a second home to me. I first visited in 2005, and I've been back once a year since then. If you've ever been away from home for a while, you get that ache in your heart to return. That's how I feel about Europe. It's not about status, or escape, or whatever else you may be assuming. It's about returning to my home-away-from-home.

So when I applied for the Fulbright, I was hesitant to plan on living in Poland. I was fearful of the gut-wrenching nature of deep disappointment. After hearing I was a finalist, the dreams immediately began manifesting themselves in my mind. Living in Poland would be realizing my dream to live in Europe, to daily stroll down cobble-stone streets, hop on the efficient public-transportation, listen to the church bells ringing, use resources well, walk most places, visit the market for fresh groceries, imbibe the historical monuments and culture, learn another language, travel on the weekends, meet new friends, appreciate history further and become a better teacher when I returned to the classroom. These were the fantasies of my dreams. None of them are to become reality. But it's taking me a while to sober up.

I'm angry at God, have pitched my tantrum and now am just trying to figure out why he decided not to grant me this desire of my heart. I know I'll never understand, but my questioning nature won't quite rest. My dreams for Europe weren't bad, Tucker and I weren't neglecting some responsibility just to venture overseas. But evidently, our best laid plans veered off course from God's plan for our lives. Why is this so painful then? Maybe because discipline is difficult? But we have nothing to stay for. No job possibilities, no house, no kids, no goal other than to move to Europe. Which is an impossibility. The old saying when God closes a door, he opens a window is making me feel like I'm not strong enough to reach the height of said window, or can't find it and instead am stumbling around in the dark, on the verge of tears, with fear and anger welling up inside me. And the worst part is when people contritely say "something better will come along" or "God has a plan" or "everything will work out." Please don't think this blog posting is an invitation to offer me suggestions about jobs, or to talk about this rejection, or to ask for more information. This blog is probably my passive-aggresive (which is the antithesis of my nature, if you know me) way of getting the word out without personally having to broach the subject.

One thing I've learned from this is that when people are grieving their lost dreams, grieve with them. Tell them it really stinks, that you'll pray for them, that you don't understand it but that you know God loves us and works for our good, even when it hurts. Don't gloss over my pain. I guess that applies to many situations, so maybe this is my optimism peeking through that I'm already gleaning lessons from this trial.

I know we would've loved Poland. Tucker knows it too. We loved it when we visited for a week on foreign study, and we were so excited about the possibility to immerse ourselves in the culture and people. I've been looking into learning Polish, buying the best warm-weather gear, brushing up on the country's history and current events, checking the weather. All for naught. I don't feel foolish. I feel like a dreamer who woke up to an abrupt, nightmarish shift in my consciousness. But I also feel like the Lord is teaching me to remember that my will is not always his will, and the desires of my heart, strong as they may be, may not be best for me. I know he knows what's best, but head knowledge is different than heart knowledge. I'm still angry, I'm still sad, I still feel lost without a goal to work towards. But I'm carrying on with my duties, have good days and bad, and still dream of living in Europe. Only now, my dreams are just at night, just pretend, no longer within reach.