I have two weeks left until I'm finished my classes for college, and right now I'm supposed to be writing a paper for my history elective. (Why did I take a history elective when I'm barely interested in history? I'm still not sure.)
A part of me is excited to be done school. I've learned a lot these past few years — about journalism, of course, but also about myself and God and the person I want to be. The other part of me feels sad to see it ending so soon.
Part of my terms of graduation is the successful completion of an internship. I had applied for an internship in Toronto but didn't get it. A few weeks later, on a whim, I applied for an internship in London, England. Surely if I didn't get the Toronto internship, I hardly had a shot at England.
I compiled a list of potential internships when England would say no. And, even on the off chance England said yes, how could I afford it? It would be an unpaid internship in a very expensive city.
I was scared not to get it — because did that reflect my capabilities as a journalist?
But I was scared to get it — because did that mean I was going to England for the summer? If I went, what would I miss back here at home? Ice cream dates with my nephew, Noah, and late nights holding Noah's new brother or sister?
I am more afraid of missing out on things than anything else in my life. I have done enough introspection to know a lot of this stems from being in Peru when my grandmother passed away two December's ago. I don't want to repeat that, ever.
I told God if he wanted me to go to England, I needed to be home for the birth of my sister's next baby. (I'm still working on being less bossy.) The baby is due in June, and the internship would happen sometime between May and September. I figured if God wanted me in England bad enough — considering he can literally move mountains — he could, hypothetically, have me go there after the baby is born.
A few weeks after I applied, I received the email: I had been chosen for an internship in London, England.
I read it six times. I could hardly believe it. (Don't they know I barely have any idea what I'm doing?) They asked me what timeline I preferred: I said I needed to be home until the middle of June.
A few weeks later, my friends got engaged. Their wedding is August 18. I updated my prayer, adding to God, "If you'd really like me to go to England, can I go between June 20 and August 17?"
I knew this wasn't likely. Only four time-slots were available for the internship, and a mere one fit in the timeline I was hoping for. But God has a way of restoring my faith.
The company emailed me back: I'd been chosen for the July 2 - August 10 time-slot. The exact one I needed to see my sister's baby be born and my friends get married.
I could tell you more — how I budgeted the money I'd need to live there and felt gut-punched, but then started to receive cheques in the mail, and contracting opportunities that paid me to write and make art — opportunities which fit directly into the months before I'd leave for the UK.
The goodness of God doesn't cease to amaze me. I can't begin to tell you what will happen in England — only that I am beyond sure I am supposed to go.
I can't even attempt to measure his goodness. It's too high, too wide. It stretches around me, it goes before me, it loops behind me in wave after wave.
I have two weeks of school, then my sister's baby, and then... London.
I can hardly wait.
Now, back to writing that history paper.
By the way, I'm hosting my fourth art show at the end of this month. If you're local to the GTA, you should definitely come. It's a free night full of art and treats and music. I'd love to see you there!
All of the info is right here on the Facebook event page: