Buried with Grandma

I was born with an innate desire to make a difference in this world. This desire grew inside of me, becoming a living thing pushing me to do my best, to see the world, and to try to do as much as possible in my lifetime. It's helped me to excel in my schoolwork, to see the world, and to interact with hundreds and hundreds of people. I figured the more places I went and the more things I did, the better person I was. I was wrong.

Circumstances led me to live with my Grandma for the rather difficult final 9 months of her life. At first I thought I was there to help her, and I was grateful for the difference I knew I was making in her life. In hindsight, I know I was there so she could help and teach me. As I helped to prepare her for burial and watched her coffin be lowered into the soil, I knew my life would never be the same. I knew something had changed inside of me, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

Grandma has been with our Father in Heaven for a year and a half now. I can't believe it's been so long! Some days it feels like she's been gone forever, and some days it feels like I'll see her when I head home at the end of my day. I wish for the latter every day. Grandma had this incredible ability to make every person in her life feel like they were the most important person to her. I miss that. She never traveled the world or served on some fancy board. She lived her entire life in the same town, and was happy to do it. She taught me how to bloom where I am planted, to form and nurture real relationships with the people around me, and the blessings of staying still.

If you look at my track record, you'll quickly see I've never been good at staying still. In my desire to touch every corner of the world, I've not stayed in the same place longer than 2 years since high school graduation. I have good friends, and then move and lose touch with them. I've always lived in the future to some extent--planning my next grand adventure without cherishing the adventure I'm in.

I now find myself standing at a fork in the road. I will soon graduate with my Masters degree. I have an incredible offer to pursue my doctoral studies at a good university, fully funded, with opportunities to travel. Yet I find myself hesitating. I'm not scared. I'm good at moving to new places and making new friends. I know God will be with me wherever I am, and that gives me strength to do all things. I just don't want to go. I don't want to move. I don't want new friends--I like mine. I don't want to move farther away from my family. I don't know if I can handle 3-4 more years of graduate studies. I don't have the desire.

My drive is gone: buried with Grandma. I don't want it back. I am happy to sit still, to live in the moment, to nurture the relationships I have, and to bloom where I am planted. I can make a difference here.

I don't yet know what this means for me. I knew something fundamentally changed inside of me on that February afternoon a year and a half ago standing in the cemetery. Now I know what it was. I need to understand it. I stand at a fork in the road, uncertain which path I will tread, yet knowing this decision will be one of the most important of my life. Do I spread my wings and fly, embracing new opportunities and possibilities, or do I keep them folded in, embracing the incredible people and places I now hold dear? It is a choice only I can make, and I will make it.

Maybe I'll walk the path familiar to me, and maybe I'll walk the path less traveled. No matter which path I tread, I only hope I will have the strength to leave some things buried with Grandma.