It is a curious feeling to read through my school email and find all the messages about everything that's happening back at PHC. It causes me to think about the paths not taken. If I had remained a Writing major instead of switching to History, I would have been creating all my stories, etc. for practicum. I would have graduated this past December. That was the original plan when I came to college - to graduate a semester early. But in doing so, I would manage to graduate still ignorant about most of this world's history. That would have been the easy path, utterly suited to my former talents, relatively unpaved by challenges.

But no, I switched to History and began to fill in my gaps in knowledge. Huge, gaping holes they were, too. Makes me wonder how I survived so long, with dark, raggedy abysses in my mind. Quickly I found, though, that I needed more. I needed my writing back. So I added in Literature to give myself a double major. Now I have an extra year of study.

I believe this was the right path, just as I believe it was the right path to come home this semester. The semester with only the History major felt very needed. Very rational. But I had cut off my true joy, my dance, my writing. To live like that forever would be to live palely, with a permanent, debilitating wound. God didn't ask that of me. He gave me back my writing. At the same time, for me only to be a Literature major would be to skitter blithely on the wind without an anchor. Either major alone, and I would be incomplete.

Of course, I didn't know this before I did what God wanted me to do. I've discovered slowly, as I've stepped along the path I needed to follow, exactly how perfect it is. I have to trust, therefore, that this semester at home will yield the same joy.  ¶ 10:18 AM