Woodchips

Lydia and I walk to the park kicking the neon green soccer ball between our feet. The mosquitos are out in full force, and I scratch my thighs as we walk. We make it through the damp grass, and the smell of woodchips meets my nose.
            “I guess they got new woodchips,” I say casually and kick the soccer ball in Lydia’s direction.
            “That’s terrible! I hate change,” she kicks the ball hard.
            “Yeah, but Lydia, woodchips? Really?”
            “I grew up with this park!”
             I glance over at her twelve-year-old self. You are just beginning to see what change really is, I think. But then again, so am I.

On this trip last week to the Dominican, I expected to find the assurance that this was the place for me after I graduate. With just one semester left, things are falling into place, and I thought this trip would be the final assurance that I didn’t need to worry about the future anymore, that God would sort it all out, and that here was this grand feeling of peace.  

But as my friends in the Dominican asked me when I would be back, I was left with a feeling of uncertainty.
            “Well, I could come here to teach. Yasmin said she could get me a job at her school, or maybe I could work at Santiago Christian. I already talked with the director, and he’s a pretty cool guy. Or then again, maybe I could work with GO Ministries and tutor English at their basketball clinic and the seminary. Or maybe I’ll join the Peace Corps and they will station me in the Dominican.” Those were the things that I said.

But maybe the Peace Corps will station me in Nicaragua and I’ll hang out with Maria every day. Or maybe I will go teach English in China and pick up some more Chinese phrases. Or maybe I’ll fail all my classes and won’t be able to graduate, and I will have to spend more time with Sam, Alyssa, and Alivia. Or maybe I will be swept off my feet by a man on a white horse, and he will take me to Maine. Or maybe I will get consumption and die. Those were the things that I thought.

But maybe I just need to realize that December is coming, and I probably won’t fail all my classes, and I probably won’t catch tuberculosis. I will graduate as planned, and the changes in my life will be a lot bigger than woodchips. And although I don’t know if I will end up in the Dominican Republic, or Nicaragua, or China, or Maine, I do know that God is in control, and He works for my good. It takes a lot for me to say that; those who know me know my doubt. But those are the things that I trust.