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"It's not what it seems..."
This is not any of the epic blogs that I was planning, but the idea struck me earlier today, although it wasn’t so much an idea as an event.
I’ve been stressing about my English 272 (Writing for English Majors) paper ever since I turned it in a couple weeks ago. Firstly, I’m the only freshman in the class, since I didn’t need to take English 102 (
the worst English class ever a basic English class). Secondly, I’ve heard that my professor is very finicky with words (which is, in my eyes, a good thing—my concentration is on writing and I think words are important). When I started off this paper, I was extremely intimidated because I wasn’t sure what to do and it was one of my first real college papers.
Today, we got it back. I did my typical freak-out thing—“Okay, so it’s graded out of fifteen, so if I get something that’s double digits, I’ll be fine.”
A pause in the panic.
“OH CRUD, I’M GOING TO GET NINE OUT OF FIFTEEN AND I’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET MY GRADE BACK UP!!!!!!!!!!”
Then, my prof kindly told the class that no one got lower than ten. Thank God. She also told us that ten was a C.
Sweet baby Jesus, save me. Yes, I got a B- on my seminar essay (it was truly awful and I want to apologize for handing in such crap), but I put so much effort into this. So maybe I got a B or something. Who knows, maybe I lucked out.
I get my paper and there is writing all over it. Dear Lord, I got a C. So I flip to the back page and see…
I literally had to find a place to sit down so that I could look at it again. I don’t think I have been that shocked in YEARS. Deep down, I knew that I’d do fairly well on the paper, but…wow. I can take this as nothing less than what it is—an affirmation.
I’ve wanted to be an English major since I was fourteen. I’ve loved to write for my whole life—there’s nothing that makes me feel more alive than sitting down and typing what’s on my mind—whether it’s in an essay, a poem, a story, fanfiction, or blogging here. Since I realized how much I love doing this, there have been people telling me that I’m dreaming an impossible dream in one way or another. Yes, I know that it’s not going to be easy to become a bestselling author. I will have to work myself into the ground for the rest of my life to even get acknowledged, but I want it so badly. I’m willing to break my back (and every other bone in my body) in order to do this.
But sometimes, I forget—especially lately.
Since I came here to college, I’ve been hearing a voice of doubt, telling me that I can’t do it, that I’m an English major because I’m stupid and I’ll never accomplish anything once I’m done with college (and possibly grad school). For a couple of weeks, that voice hurt me so badly. I didn’t change my major, but I doubted myself and my ability. Maybe I was wrong for all this time. Maybe my teachers were wrong in thinking that I could be an author. (Even writing about this now hurts so much. There are few things worse than self-doubt—I hope that no one reading this suffers from it. If so, DON’T LET IT GET YOU. And know that I’ll be praying for you.)
This grade was what I needed to remember that I can do this. Yes, I’m dreaming this massive and semi-impossible dream but “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13).
Ultimately, I’ve decided that I am going to dream big or not at all. Everything I want in life seems just a little bit out of reach. So did a perfect score on that English paper, but somehow it happened. If things are meant to be, somehow they will work out.
That paper was more than a grade for me. It was a reminder that I’m capable of more than I know (or expect) and a reminder that I should never, ever give up on what I love. No one should. Our time here is short—why would we waste it doing anything less than the things that set our hearts ablaze with love and bring our passion to life?