It was orientation week. For the past year, I had been building up to this moment. With the help of my tennis coach of nearly ten years, I had worked on every part of my game – adjusting the grip on my forehand and switching the angle of my serve – working to perfect my technique in anticipation of joining Asbury’s varsity tennis team. On my fourth day of being on campus, I was already driving with other new players to get a physical in Nicholasville. Then, two days later, I quit the team.
The best decision yet of my college career.
Without a doubt, it didn’t feel like that at the time. I remember crying over the phone to my parents, disparing over how much of a quitter and a failure I was. I had been playing for ten years. I loved playing. Since when was I the kind of person who backed down from something just because it was hard? But I didn’t leave it because it was hard. I left it because of all the time I couldn’t get back.
There is no place like college to get busy. It’s remarkable how easy it is. We have activity fairs, clubs, intramurals, student government and almost anything else. When I first arrived at Asbury, I was amazed by just how many opportunities there were that I had never even heard of before. Suddenly, playing a sport wasn’t my only option. I could grow in new ways. Try new things. When I left the varsity team before our first practice, I thought that was what I was leaving tennis for. Looking back, I suppose I was half right. But the true fruit of that decision was one that took longer for me to realize.
The realization came in the form of a new friend. Considering her dorm room was directly across the hall from mine my freshman year, it was inevitable that we would cross paths. What was less inevitable was just how much of an impact she would make on me. As I struggled to find a spiritual footing on campus, she offered to organize a banded discipleship group, pouring into me and two other freshmen for the rest of that semester.
Then, one day, she was late.
I grew up in a culture where that was normal – where any meeting time actually meant at least 15 or 20 minutes after – but I had gotten used to the on-time nature of living in the States. After our meeting, I asked her what had kept her from showing up on time, genuinely concerned that something might be wrong. Her response is one I won’t ever forget. She told me that, purposefully, she had decided to never let the fear of being late keep her from stopping to talk to people.
I couldn’t get that promise out of my mind.
Ever since that conversation, her willingness to live life slower has continued to call to me. I am naturally busy. I always want to do everything, see everything and experience everything, but her example made me pause. It’s changed the way that I choose my schedules and my work hours. It’s changed the paths I walk on and the places I study in hopes of bumping into people. It’s changed the way I value time.
There is a lot of good that comes with being busy. Especially at Asbury, there is so much that we can experience and do that we may never get a chance to do again. But there is also something beautiful in leaving room for surprises. For laughs shared over late-night Cook-Out runs. For swapping class advice in dim dorm hallways. For pausing on the stairs to the Bistro to ask about someone’s struggling family.
Am I saying that we should all clear our schedules and be late to every class? Not a chance. I am still involved with several groups outside of classes, and I am grateful for each and every one. But I do wonder how things might change if we had more intentionality in what we chose to do and what we didn’t – if we were willing to schedule enough nothing to leave time for all the most meaningful somethings. If we left space to be surprised.
Who knows, it might make all the difference.
Photo courtesy of Unsplash.
