Wednesday, March 07, 2012

A Sense of A Beginning
I tried very hard to summon some semblance of anxiousness, but it shimmered away from me like fairy dust on a cynical adult. My traitorous mind refused the usual course of emotion and decided to settle gently into a kind of bizarre-freaky calm. Cleo complained bitterly at my lack of appropriate emotion. 


"Why aren't you nervous? You're getting your results tomorrow! You and Ryan are making me feel like my pre-results call is useless."


Alas,  I just could not be anxious. 


Somehow, an inexplicable peace had seized me and refused to release its impressively stubborn jaws. It was odd. Facebook was awash with emotional breakdowns and frantic well-wishing, and all I could think of was what I would eat after I had gotten my results (Japanese food with my family). It wasn't that I was confident of my results, it wasn't that I was guaranteed to do well, it wasn't that I didn't care. Perhaps my internal monologue had something to do with it. 


Amanda, whatever your grades, you've done your best for the Lord. He's the only one who gets to judge you. He's the only one who get to say that you've done a good job.


He's the only one who matters. He's the only one who knows exactly how much tears you've shed, how many long nights of sleep you've sacrificed, how many desperate prayers you've muttered, how much bloody effort you put in, how many breakouts you've had, how many times you nearly wanted to just give up but didn't, and most of all, just how much of yourself you gave to do your best and glorify his name. 


A grade does not get to define you. A bunch of random American or Korean or Middle Eastern examiners do not get to judge how much you've changed. They do not get to decide how much you've grown, how much you've learnt, how much your future is worth. Imma tell you girl, you so damn fine. 


So maybe my conscience doesn't speak in rapper slang, but that was about the gist of it. 
On the 6th of January 2012, I opened a white envelope. There, were the two numbers everyone was holding their breaths for, sitting innocently at the bottom-right of my IB transcript. 


I was wrong.
Those two numbers, after all that was said and done, were the Meaning of Life, Universe and Everything.

God, your sense of humour is just, peachy.