This isn't the end.

My last day of college was on Thursday, March 5th, 2020, and I had no idea.

Honestly, it was a really hard day filled with challenging midterms, stressful work, and the pain that came from struggling with crutches after fracturing my foot. But, wow, I would give anything to repeat it over and over.

I wish I could crutch from class to class. I wish I could sit through another boring MIS class and doodle in the margins of my notes. I wish I could sit next to my classmates and frantically pour over our study guides in the last few minutes before an exam. I wish I could run into someone I know in the business school and complain about impossible tests.

Even more than repeating a hard day, I wish I could re-live one of the best. I wish I could see another average day. I wish I could deeply feel and experience those things again, knowing they were my lasts. I wish I could say goodbye.

I never expected to end this chapter of my life so soon. I knew I would be graduating in three years instead of four, and the reality of that timeline had barely sunk in. I had just started to come to terms that I would be walking across the stage in May, leaving Baylor and Waco, and figuring out what life looks like after graduation.

And then we got the email that classes would be online for the rest of the semester. I understood. I wasn’t angry, but I was (and am) heartbroken.

It’s not easy to say goodbye to something you love. It’s definitely not easy to say goodbye when you didn’t even know you were saying goodbye.

Baylor has been the homiest home I’ve ever known. These people, this campus, these classes, this city, this life - they have meant the absolute most to me. I’ve been challenged, encouraged, hurt, celebrated, stretched, healed, and redeemed here. I have learned and grown in this place. Waco, Texas and Baylor University will always be home to so much transformation and to memories that could fill dozens of scrapbooks.

But. This isn’t the end. This isn’t the whole thing.

When I came to Baylor for my freshman orientation, I had been anxious. I had put so much hope in this school – I believed that by coming here, Baylor would change me. However, as I walked around an empty campus, I was filled with peace as God whispered to me, and my hope shifted from a creation to the Creator. I later told someone the following: “The God that has, is, and will be changing me does not work exclusively at Baylor. Baylor won't be the end. It won't be the whole thing. It couldn't be anyways.”

I’ve been reminded of this truth as the end of my senior year has seemingly crumbled. This isn’t the end, and God is still moving. This doesn’t mean that I’m not still grieving the lasts that I don’t get to have – from classes to semi-formals to meals to projects to walks to meetings to conversations – but I am also being prompted to reflect upon all the firsts that I experienced over the last three years.

I am going to walk toward a new, very unknown post-grad life in a few weeks, but it will be full of even more incredible firsts that I get to go through hand in hand with the same God who has been moving and working in me for the past twenty-one years. The same God who has been faithful and trustworthy and good and gracious at Baylor will continue being those things after I leave Waco. He will continue being those things for the rest of my life, and beyond the grave.

This isn’t the end. It isn’t the whole thing. It couldn’t be anyways.

As for what comes next (every soon-to-be graduate’s least favorite question)?

Honestly, I don’t know. Turns out that a vision for event marketing isn’t incredibly useful in the middle of a pandemic. Every idea and backup plan I had (and I had several) has disappeared in the wake of COVID-19. I’ve been applying all over the country but [as many of my classmates are painfully aware] the job market is not especially kind. I was lucky to get a single interview. Many friends haven’t been able to say the same.

For now, I’m soaking up every last second in one of my favorite spots on earth, with many of the people who have made it home. In two weeks, I’ll be moving out of my college apartment, packing up my car, and driving away from my little Waco life.

Maybe I’ll head back to Idaho for a bit. Maybe I’ll live with some friends and get a random barista job to help pay the rent (ugh, don’t remind me that I just went through all this work to get my B.B.A.). Maybe that interview will become a job offer. Or an application will land in the right person’s hands. Again, I really don’t know. I wish I could.

I’m trying to live with open hands. Now and for the rest of my life, I want to live with palms wide open – surrendering what I want to hold tightly to, and waiting expectantly for them to be filled with what I need.

So, in summary: I could not be more heartbroken to end my time at Baylor this way. I could not be more grateful for this place I have been able to call home for the past three years. But this isn’t the end. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going (sure wish Baylor made a shirt for post-grads). God is faithful and working, and will fill these open palms.

Sic’em, always. Thank you, Jesus.

Romans 5:3-5 (MSG)