I just passed the driving test in Massachusetts a few days ago. Yes, I'm 23. Yes, that means it took me 7 years to get a driver's license. No, being 23 doesn't stop me from cruising at exactly the speed limit and blasting Carly Rae Jepsen from my parents' car. I'm a boss.
Before I took the test, I was a nervous wreck. I had failed twice in high school, so my self-confidence was at low-tide. I also didn't want to get my hopes up. I tried to be realistic, saying things like, "It really doesn't matter, because I can always take the test next year when I get back from Mongolia." Which, you know, was true. I could take the test again when I was 24.. or 25.. but I really, really wanted to pass this time around. Having a license is practical, and passing the test is like a right of passage. I'm so glad it's behind me!
But I was right, too, that it really didn't matter. I won't be driving in Mongolia. Getting my license is great, but it isn't important to my current call. (It will probably prove to be really useful in the future, though :). For all that anxiety, it wasn't that big of a deal. And I'm realizing that there are a lot of things that don't matter.
My favorite shampoo.
My love of pedicures.
My affinity toward Netflix.
My book collection.
The way I like my food.
Coffee.
All of the scarves I love to wear.
These are a few of my favorite things, and they don't matter at all compared to the people I will meet in the coming months.
My desire to go to a good graduate school.
My hope of being married someday.
My dream of being successful.
These wonderful ideas don't matter in light of being called and being obedient. Wherever that takes me.
I'm learning to let go, and I have a feeling this lesson isn't over yet. Especially since my next step is to pack my only two suitcases for the next 10 months.
