I will thrive this Thanksgiving for the first time since 2015: I exhausted the past three Thanksgivings pulling all-nighters to write copious amounts of research papers due days following the “break,” and returning to school barely reposed enough to function.  Isolation required my presence the past three Thanksgivings, but this Thanksgiving I can fully devote myself to those around me.

It’s a rare season.  Life post-college thwarts my previous expectations—they said it would be demanding, but I did comprehend why—how moderate our imagination articulates itself when considering the future.  Life bustles with business, but not in the sense of ever-pervading papers and deadlines.  I anticipated a consistent routine once I settled into a job, but correlations of events tease me each Monday as I recognize no two weeks mirror; every week acts as its own epic, presenting new themes, characters, events, and settings, each authored by me.  I invite the atmosphere and the characters based on what I choose to do instead of what is required of me from a syllabus or standardized set of expectations placed upon me by another.  However, let me not deceive the reader into believing I have limitless control; much does not go according to plan and many uninvited characters and circumstances and conflicts invade the picturesque plan I envisioned at the beginning of the week, nevertheless, a majority of the time I choose what and who enters the realm of my existence.  It’s a new freedom unknown to the exhausted student—one’s schedule predominantly depends on his or her desires for the moment—it’s quite odd not to arrange my schedule based on anyone or anything external.

I am only beginning to recognize and to indulge in this new freedom, as it is both structured and unstructured. I suppose I am slowly grasping that the consistency I yearned for in college is unattainable, and, perhaps, that is a good thing.

How gracious that I might not become ensnared in the monotony of life—“mundane” seems like an imaginative state instead of something that could be known.  I am sure that I will experience a season of uniformity, but not yet, and I have come to terms with that.  Perhaps God has created me for much more than the routine I crave: the inconsistency surrounding me reminds me that God consistently upholds me throughout every change and every season.

This Thanksgiving I rejoice that I am freed from past responsibilities—the season of being a student has ended, now I must relearn the glories of Thanksgiving—and I will attempt to enjoy the holiday free from distraction.  The past three years make this fourth year significantly sweeter.  These are the moments I worked terribly hard to arrive at.  I made it.  I finally made it to the Thanksgiving I cried and prayed for each all-nighter.  The song emanates through my earphones:

Your promise still stands, great is Your faithfulness

I’m still in Your hands, this is my confidence:

You’ve never failed me yet.

I never imagined that this is what it would be like—I rarely do—but I will remember the faithfulness of God.  He was faithful in that season, He has been faithful in this season, and He will be faithful in the next season.

This is the Thanksgiving I can finally be present for—this is the season of abundance God has carried me into.

Life is good, even when tragedy pervades, stress overwhelms, and inconsistency controls.  We serve a faithful God who knows and overcomes our sorrows, struggles, and sins.
All is well, for we have been set free.