I'm having a panic attack. Kind of. Every single summer I take stock of everything that's changed in my little world and in the people I love and in the opinions I hold and the things upon which I stand. And mostly I don't see very many changes in me. I'm still 5'9". I still live in Rhode Island. I still love my parents. I still love Jesus.
But what sends my heart beating madly is the changes outside of me. My brother has a faint shadow on his upper lip and has started talking back to his mother. My friends are leaving their homes and moving into tiny cinder block rooms. My state is putting a tax on soda and textbooks and heating oil and car repairs. My country has unemployment that rises with minimum wage, and a general public that doesn't recycle like it used to in the 80's.
The end of the world is two steps away. The end of my world is too far away.
The future is so unknown. Not just the nebulous cosmic future, but the next week, next month, next year future of my own little speck of a life. Who? What? Where? When? Dear God Almighty, when I prayed for struggles and sufferings and a sanctifying break, did you think to yourself, "Just wait"? Because the fireworks outside sound so normal, and the taste of Nutella in my mouth is so delicious, and the breeze of the air conditioning is so comforting. Isn't that just it, though? All this comfortable happiness can't be real.
But dear God, I don't think I can do this. Continue in normalcy with only a fractured little heart to keep me afloat. I don't even know what I want, really. I just know that once again, I'm sickened by the changes that have creeped up on me, and the maladjusted little girl who sees behind my eyes doesn't know how to cope or keep up. Couldn't everything just stay the same? Or couldn't I change to keep pace with it all?
Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God.
I guess I'm just panicking because everything else is moving so fast that, it feels like I'm standing still. I guess I should stop reading those Jodi Picoult novels, hm?