Like most people making their way into a new phase of life, I am caught in a mixed state of stubborn confidence and an overwhelming sense of unknowing. I am certain of what I think my next steps should be, but I am also very aware of how little I know. It can be a paralyzing position to be in, just standing at the edge of the next big thing, and I paradoxically feel trapped by the openness ahead of me. The good news in all of this? I’m one of many, many college students preparing for “real life,” and of all the places I could be, God brought me to the Horizons Fellows where we get to discuss this chapter together.
Like many things, graduating comes by way of intentionally acting to progress my situation while being faced with the fact that I don’t know precisely what God has in store for me. Just the other week, I clicked a little button on my computer indicating that I’ll be graduating in May. I have no clue what comes after Final Exercises, so my anticipation of that time is both anxious and motivating. What am I supposed to do when faced with more options than merely moving on to the proper successive step? My peers and I only know life as students. All due respect to Mr. Jefferson, but being a lifetime learner doesn’t necessarily guarantee the same security as moving from grade school to college. At some point, learning has to shift from career to habit, so it’s a pretty big deal to decide what the first step outside the bubble will be.
Studies show that people are typically more satisfied with their choices if they had fewer options to choose from. We’ve all experienced it in some form: a long menu, ice cream flavors, toothpaste brands. Too many alternatives cause us to wonder what could have been, but there is a level of safety in having limited options. While we like knowing we have choices, we also take comfort in having made the ‘right’ choice. It then makes sense that we have a natural gauge of probability when our options are narrowed. I like to think that this is simply a built-in mechanism that allows us to appreciate what comes out of the choices we make in times of limitation. It gives us the ability to reflect back on times of tribulation and see how God provided out of finite resources.
As I grow older (and hopefully wiser), I have developed an appreciation for constraint. Our first readings as Horizons Fellows discussed constraint, and they have certainly shown me its place in the bigger picture of my life. I am told regularly what a wide array of paths are open for me to take, and I’ve come to long for the feeling of pressure nudging me on. That’s not to say that I hope for catastrophe, just that my natural drive to find rest in not having to make a choice is growing. I miss the certainty of there being a distinct next step, and the idea finding the start of a clearer path excites me.
Maybe that’s what prompts those further down the road to get excited about my future; I’m about to start the path that is truly unique to myself. While I wish for some semblance of structure to tell me I’m headed the right way, they get to reflect on what unfolded for them in such times. It’s easier to appreciate the level of constraint on the other side, but I hope that my final months here teach me to ruminate on what a great privilege it is to be formed by the curiosity of what lies ahead.