“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” — J.R.R. Tolkien
I sit in the front passenger seat of a red car. I’m not alone, though, and we’re not simply at a standstill. The four friends occupying the other seats and I are heading to Taco Bell in Nicholasville, otherwise known as one of the few places that stay open for the lateness of a Friday night hangout. It’s not a tradition for us, nor did it take a lot of planning to decide to go. All it took was one of the boys texting, “Anyone down for Taco Bell at 10?” for the rest of us to put other hobbies and things aside. We hit the road after two FaceTime calls and multiple texts of where to meet.
Conversation flows easily since the first week of classes is officially over, and we want to update one another as we drive down curving country roads with the moon rising higher and higher into the night sky. The laughter never fails to pierce the air when I’m with them, no matter the story or joke being told, and I realize how relaxed I feel despite the tears in my eyes. If you know me at all, you know it’s just a sign I’ve been laughing too much. Nonetheless, I feel peaceful.
Looking back at this simple exchange a few days later, I know I could’ve easily ignored the text messages. I could’ve sent a “sorry; I’m busy” reply while choosing to stay in my dorm room to finish the assignments and readings already starting to build. Yet, I made a different decision. I chose to embrace the boys’ spontaneity and join some of my favorite people for a quick drive to a fast food place where some of us didn’t even order food.
“I didn’t come for the food,” one of my friends had said. “I came for the vibes.”
I remember chuckling at this, but the more I think about it, the more I agree with her. Sure, having a cheap taco isn’t that bad, but that’s not why I decided to meet my friends in the semicircle in freezing Kentucky winter weather. I went with them because I missed them. They’re my friends; I wanted to hang out with them.
It was one moment and one decision, yet it built onto these already precious memories I have with them. And being college students, we often hear phrases about other little moments like this. Perhaps a first date, the moment you choose a major, a dreaded phone call with yours or a family member’s health results — even a random Friday at a Tractor Supply parking lot laughing about something dumb we did over the summer. We know life is precious because it’s building many snapshots that create our life’s opus.
However, we take such sentimental advice to embrace life and then we twist it, whether we admit it or not. We use it as an excuse to fill our schedules. Different meetings, jobs, roles and events black out our time. We genuinely think we’re doing the right thing. Especially at Asbury, being busy and telling people how you woke up at 5 a.m. and have classes until 9 p.m. can practically earn you a gold medal or a wide-eyed look of disbelief that makes you think your life is more worthwhile.
But it’s a lie.
Trust me, overcommitting yourself and running on toxic caffeine and little sleep fumes is not the precious life you want. It’s also not the life we’re called to live.
Those friends in that car are probably taking this moment to call me a hypocrite. They are right to do so. I have a tendency just like you to fill, or rather cram, a thousand appointments into my schedule. Yet luckily, at even the bare mention of a job opportunity for next year, I heard them immediately shout, “No!” and demand I list out everything to which I’ve already committed.
I’m glad I did. I’m also glad I went with them that night because, to me, it acted as a reminder that life isn’t about to-do lists. It’s about people. The relationships between you and God, your body, your mind, your friends, your roommate, your professors, your church — those are what matter in this life.
Let me put it a different way. In the summer of 2019, I traveled to Kenya, Africa. It was a transformative experience for my faith, and I learned a lot, but one thing I remember is how Kenyans viewed time. It didn’t resemble the westernized culture I grew up in, where activities began and ended approximately at the hour mark. It was quite the opposite. Time was flexible and contextual, and the people you met and their stories were way more important than a deadline.
I’m not saying that there isn’t value in expanding your horizons through jobs and other activities, nor is it wrong to set goals. I do, however, caution that you be patient with yourself.
We’ve been living in a pandemic for almost two years, and we are not the same people we were in March 2020. It’s OK if you can’t juggle 18 credits and a part-time job anymore. It’s OK if you need to drop a class to focus on your health. It’s OK to set small goals rather than huge, overbearing ones — those are more realistic anyway and will get you farther than you realize.
Just take time for yourself, God, and the people He placed in your life this semester. They’re there for a reason.
