You want to begin at the beginning?* I had a car accident today. Rear ended a lady. And to Oprah’s pleasure, I wasn’t on the phone. Lots of brake slamming in front of me, plus general traffic. Just an accident. I’m fine. They’re fine. The cars are mostly fine. Those things happen.

But it shook me a little. I’m calm by nature in those types of situations. I called my insurance company and had them email me a new proof of insurance. I called my dad and we talked a bit. When the officer finally got there, he asked me what happened and I said “Well, I hit her.” It wasn’t until afterward, once I had a sweet tea and few minutes alone, that I came up with my lesson.

I really tried to brake. I’ve actually never had an accident before. But physics wasn’t on my side. I slid into the obstacle. The analogy is consistent with my life. I’ve been staring at the reality of my 30th birthday for a while now. A few months ago, I came to terms with the fact that even though I haven’t done some of the things I thought I’d do by now, I’m still going to turn 30, if the Lord says the same. I’m going to slide into that obstacle despite my attempts to alter the course or slow things down. It’s not really an obstacle. I don’t mind getting older. It’s kind of exciting. But it’s different than I thought it would be.

So what am I going to do? Well, I’m going to work on doing some of the things I wanted to accomplish. I’m going to set some new, revised goals. And I’m going to forget about some of them because they weren’t any good for me. Slowly, but surely, I’ll revise my life. That’s the way this story goes, I think: a constant draft, always in need of revision.

Do you know what today is? I used to say it was my birthday too, but it isn’t. My birthday is in November and this is just another day. That’s how I know I’m getting over.

You know what else? As much as I’ve grown tired of my pursuit of a M.Ed., I did my homework today. I read a book. I’m kind of close now to just stop. That too is how I know I’m getting over.

I guess all I’m saying is that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, in a lot of ways. And that is something to be thankful for.