On April 29, 2017, I visited the Georgia Institute of Technology for the first time. I had just heard from the school that my application was accepted, meaning I would transfer in the upcoming fall semester. My family and I visited the school with a friend who had graduated a few years prior; he was kind enough to show us around the campus, point out a few highlights, and introduce me to the buildings I would spend the next three years in. Starting at Georgia Tech meant the end of my time at Georgia Southwestern State University, a place filled with memories and friendships that I didn’t want to leave. But I could go no further at GSW; I had to make the leap to GT if I wanted to finish my degree.
On August 21, 2017, I began my first day of school at Georgia Tech. That date coincided with the first solar eclipse visible in the continental US in decades. My third class of the day was cancelled because the professor was just as excited to watch the eclipse as the rest of his students. That day marked a turning point for me. I would spend the next three years chasing the same dream I had at GSW, just in a different city, different school, different culture.
Have you ever wondered what you would do if you only had one day left to live? It’s a hypothetical that people try not to think about because it’s fairly morbid. Knowing that death is around the corner presents a sense of urgency not usually active in everyday life. It forces us to evaluate who – and what – is most important.
On March 12, 2020, the president of Georgia Tech announced a move to distance learning in an effort to prevent the spread of the pandemic sweeping the globe. The news upended people’s lives immediately and without impunity. We had to move out as soon as possible and return home for the rest of the school year. I planned an exit for the next day, giving me less than 24 hours to conclude my final semester at Georgia Tech. I scribbled out a bucket list of places on campus I wanted to visit and people I wanted to see one more time before leaving. It was a struggle; I was planning to have these conversations in May at my graduation, not 10 weeks into the semester. I texted and called as many people as I could, squeezing in face-to-face meetings in between packing up my room and attending my final in-person classes. I left Georgia Tech for the last time as a student on March 13, 2020.
Endings are rarely just endings; they are almost always coupled with beginnings. This is a characteristic that makes us human. We are innately eternal creatures, embedded with the drive to keep moving forward. No day ends without the next immediately dawning. That knowledge doesn’t make the end of a chapter any less painful, though. And when death closes the final page, we want to be able to look back with joy, not regret.
I did not finish my last 24 hours at Georgia Tech as perfectly as I had hoped. Looking back on it weeks later, I chided myself for forgetting a friend I hadn’t seen in quite some time and for not taking a picture at a campus landmark earlier. All was not lost, though. The quarantine afforded myself and many others the opportunity to reach out to friends both new and old. I found my relationships deepening in the midst of this crisis, not fading.
On April 29, 2020, I submitted the final assignment of my undergraduate degree. Exactly three years after visiting Georgia Tech for the first time, I was done. On April 30, 2020, my family and I stepped out into the cool night air to watch a trail of 40 satellites make their way across the darkened sky. I stood in silent awe as my academic journey was bookended by two extraordinary sights in the heavens above.
To a small extent, I see where my next chapter is going; after all, I’ve read up until this point in the story. But I can’t predict the plot twists that are going to happen. I don’t know what kind of character development will take place next or how certain conflicts will be resolved. But that makes me all the more excited! This is just a checkpoint, not the finish line.
No one chapter in a book tells the whole tale. It only makes up a fraction of the narrative, interweaving itself with arcs past, present, and future. Can you imagine picking up a novel, reading through the first five chapters, closing the book, and assuming to know exactly how everything turns out? That would be ludicrous. Perhaps it would be wise to apply the same logic to our lives.
The lives we live never follow the trajectory we think they will. Problems arise, havoc ensues, and chapters do not close as neatly as we hope. But endings always come with beginnings. If you trust the Author, you can rest in the confidence that He knows what He’s doing. The end of a chapter (unless it’s the last one) is not the end of the story. Sometimes those endings are expected and planned for. Other times, they are abrupt and chaotic. But if you’re reading a story and a chapter doesn’t turn out the way you expected, you don’t put the book down. So, take a deep breath. Turn the page. And keep reading.