I've been going through my photos today, trying to prepare myself for the massive task of scrapbooking my college years. I assume that for most people, this is a fun thing to do. Hey, look at my funny hair! Hey, what kind of a face is that kid making?! Wow, we were just beginning to be friends! Look how young we are! Etc. On top of the reminiscing, some people are just naturally attuned to photos, colored paper, and gluing it all to scrapbook albums. Me, not so much. Scrapbooking is more of a nightmare because I get overwhelmed thinking about how to lay my entire photo collection all out, in chronological order, selecting only the best photos, and then making it all aesthetically pleasing. Gah.
But I digress - for a while, I really was enjoying going through my photos. I have some funny ones that are terrific and quite a few that really capture the essence of random road trips and hangouts from my first 2 years at K-State. I find myself thinking, "Wow, this scrapbooking endeavor might actually work out and even be fun!"
But after a while, I noticed how strained my smile looks in many of these pictures. I noticed it most often in those early sorority photos with tons of girls (predictable - we barely knew each other then) but also in candid pictures with friends and with my boyfriend at the time. And I hate to recognize that strain in my smile because I remember exactly how I was feeling at those times. I was either: A) faking it, B) nervous or C) mildly depressed. For a variety of real and imagined reasons.
Then all these feelings about the people in these photos come crashing in. Now I'm sitting here, clicking through pictures, looking at faces and thinking of their names, all people that for whatever weird reason I didn't try to get to know. Or I didn't understand at the time. Or I thought didn't like me.
(!)
And I totally feel in despair. It makes me so sad. My heart feels heavy with the weight of these burdens of memory. Memories of what I perceive as failures to build relationships. Why was I so afraid of them? Why did I think he/she didn't like me? Why was I so weird about that relationship? I wish I could let it all rest. But I don't know if that will ever happen. The thoughts are always present; often hidden, but there. Ready to pop out and ruin my evening, like tonight.
Here's the question I have had on my mind for years now: If I miss out on an opportunity to build a relationship with someone, have I missed out on a tiny portion of God's plan for my life? Have I skipped over a crucial part of God's will for my life? Have I messed it all up beyond repair? What if I was supposed to hold on to a relationship...but lost it along the way? I want to trust that God will restore people to my life if He planned on having them there...but at the same time, the fear of my destruction of those relationships tends to speak louder than the security of His goodness and good plans for me.
It's just sad. Really, really sad. I have to get over it, and the remedy I'm taking is to stop with the photos, get a bowl of cereal, and talk to my dad for a while. I should probably talk to my other Dad as well. I'm so glad He listens to all this stuff still.
