A quirk in the life of Kelsey Freya: when I find a song that I love, it plays on repeat. You may be thinking, "Well, so what... a couple times a day maybe?" No. When I'm in my room, it's playing. My sister and Mary can both attest to this as they have been a victim of my habit for a very long time. Lately, these lyrics have been spinning through my ear buds: This time, I'll be sailing. No more bailing boats for me, I'll be out here on the sea, just my confidence and me. And I'll be awful sometimes-weakened to my knees, but I'll learn to get by on the little victories.
My lifestyle in Scotland, without a doubt, can come off as quite glamorous. I have my best friend next door, endless possibilities for hill-climbing and sheep-chasing shenanigans, and the North Sea only a few miles away. It wasn't until coming to Scotland that I've been able to take a removed glance at my life back home and have realized: shoot. There is life outside and after Hope College. At this point, I have changed my major on paper at least four times and at least 100 in my head. I have read Hope College's course catalog in its entirety, and have read way too many 'find your calling' books from Border's. I have soul-searched and prayed that I may feel drawn to a major, a concrete dream, a calling. I am currently an Elementary Science Education major and Psychology minor, and I'm only now realizing (the 2nd semester of my Junior year) that I have no intentions of working in a classroom. It makes me laugh that both my sister (a freshman) and I are having the same big questions, only she is encouraged to work with them and I am discretely discouraged from having them. But it is now, halfway across the globe, that I realize that God's plan for my life, for anyone's life, is so much more than a major declaration form.
If I make it to 100 years old maybe I'll finally have plan. Chances are though, I'll still have more questions than answers. Throughout these few weeks at Aberdeen, I've realized that I'm not called to answer to a sheet of paper, an advisor, or a cookie-cutter dream. I'm called to pour my heart into every morning, to listen and to love the people that walk across my path at the perfect times. And even when the fear of living my story weakens me to my knees, I'm called to focus my eyes on the simple beauty in life. The way I get lost only to find a perfect thinking place. The way inopportune class changes seem to work themselves out perfectly. The hopeful little origami bird I found sitting next to me on the bus. The little victories. The overlooked gifts. (They are everywhere.)
On a lighter note, there is a seagull outside my window that does the happy feet dance almost every morning. He looks around to see if anyone is watching (which I always am), and then boom shakalaka: he breaks it down. I highly doubt it will ever get old.