times gone by

As I finished my first year of law school, and quickly threw myself into social events at the start of summer vacation, I had to stop and pinch myself, to make sure I was still alive. There has been very limited social interaction during the last nine months. I was focused on a goal, and the only way I knew to succeed was to shut out most everything else. When I wasn’t studying, I reflected on past years to remember all the reasons I had come to law school. But I was very disengaged from the world I claim to care about. And I had almost no interaction with the people I say I want to help with my degree. I spent more time talking on the phone than I did talking to people in person. Still, I have completed the first, most difficult year.
Now that I’m around people again, I have to remember who I am, or find out who I am now. Law school and living alone have led me to be a more forceful person, but is that the kind of person I want to be? Maybe yes maybe no. And what about all the lessons I have learned in the past; about God, about myself in relation to him, and about the way the way the world turns and how I want to live in it? These are lessons I have accumulated over the past 23 years, from birth to childhood to college; through family, friends, and adventures sought out or handed to me.
But the experiences that we have are never lost on us. No matter what, they affect us and become a part of us. I am thankful for so much. I am thankful for a sweet, sweet childhood. I am thankful for a loving family; for our hikes in the woods, and for all the simple and imaginative play I had as a kid. Things like play are never the aim of a distinguished scholar, and they do not create the climax in a play. But I believe imagination through play is core to the human spirit. It is important that I work and that I serve and that I ask questions, but it is equally important that I enjoy the richness of the little moments I find myself in and embrace life like a child.
For a few days I got to watch my 2 year old niece play, and I felt joyful that she is secure in her parents’ love, and so she is free to explore the contours of her imagination. Then I felt sad that she would not remember the time we fed the ducks or the walk we went on where her daddy picked her up so she could touch all the trees. But even though those memories will not stay with her, they will remain a part of her, and I take joy in knowing that all my moments; big and small, have made me who I am.