I went to USC for my first semester of college. My time there was brief and painstakingly miserable. Nothing against the Gamecocks or Columbia, it just wasn’t for me. The best gift I got for Christmas that year was moving out of USC and starting the New Year somewhere else.
To give you some background information, I attended an International Baccalaureate middle school and then a College Preparatory high school. I was trained my entire adolescence to choose the right university for after graduation. I took examinations to match my character traits and career ambitions with the perfect college. After 7 years of diligent preparation, I chose a school where all my close friends were going. I had planned out my perfect major with the perfect dorm and the perfect group of friends in the perfect sorority. Everything was going to be perfect. Well long story short, following your friends to school is a textbook, rookie mistake that I was warned not to do for years, but hey I did it anyway.
I transferred to a school that was close to home so I could commute. It was not meant to be a permanent solution, just an “in between” until I figured out what I was doing with my life. Living with your parents as a freshmen in college while watching the endless stream of Instagram and Facebook posts of your high school friends having the time of their lives away at school was difficult, to say the least. I fell into the habit of blaming myself, of carrying around this weight with me, this guilt. I felt guilty for choosing the wrong school. I was trained and prepared by so many for so long on how to choose the right school, and when the time came I let all of those people down. I let myself down.
I hadn’t really talked to anyone about it until one day I met up with my college ministry small group for lunch. My attendance at weekly meetings that semester had been infrequent and scattered, for reasons of the “Jesus issues” sorts that are too lengthy to get into now. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed talking to the girls in my small group and jumped at the chance to meet them for lunch. The conversation at lunch moved from the bible, to friends, to family, to boys and then to school. Two girls there were considering transferring and my opinion on the matter was solicited. At first, I didn’t want to tell them how crappy it felt to transfer. I didn’t want to discourage them. If they didn’t feel at home where they were I didn’t want to sway them in the wrong direction. But I did bring up how hard it had been for me. How hard it had been admitting that the decision I had made was the wrong decision and how difficult living with that regret had been. After I finished, my small group leader said, among other encouraging things, “Andreanna, you’ve got to give yourself some grace.”
I thought that was so funny of her to say. Give myself grace? See cause when we talk about grace in Christianity we are usually talking about God’s grace. How God’s grace saved us, redeemed us, forgave us of our sins, brought us from death to life. God’s grace is given to us freely. We’ve done nothing to deserve his Grace except for call him our God and His grace is there. So to say that I should give myself some grace was at first difficult for me to comprehend. Why would I give myself something God has already given me?
…And then it clicked. That was her point. God has already given me grace. He had already gotten over the fact that I messed up and chose the wrong school. He knew I was going to choose the wrong school before I could even walk or talk. He gave me grace long before the mistake was ever even made. She didn’t mean I should give myself grace. She meant, I should accept God’s grace and forgive myself, for God had already forgiven me.
That, my friends, was the best advice anyone could have ever given me. Yes, transferring is hard, but it made me who I am today. It changed my character and it opened up different doors, which led to new opportunities and new friends (so corny, I know). Accepting the grace that was already mine, the grace already given to me by God was the only thing I could really do. The mistake was made; the transfer was done. I just needed to get over it and move on.
We can get so bogged down by our mistakes. If you’re a perfectionist like me, mistakes weigh heavy on your heart and even heavier on your mind. Looking at life now, I can see more clearly now how littered life is with error and fault. As I’ve transitioned from undergrad and grad school to a professional career, I have found how quick I am to disparage myself for messing up. I tend to let my errors at work or in my friendships and relationships make me feel stressed, overwhelmed, inadequate and less than. It’s in those moments where this gentle reminder helps settle me. Where I can re-gift the already gifted grace and refocus my peace.
“You’ve got to give yourself some grace.”
We aren’t perfect and we don’t know everything. Everyday we learn new things about ourselves, our jobs, our friends, our relationships. We’re human and flawed and sometimes mistakes are necessary. They reveal new information and can transform us into better people.
So forgive yourself. Even if you aren’t Christian or don’t believe in a god, give yourself your own grace. Take a big cup of grace in the morning and start anew. There’s good stuff out there waiting for you, but you won’t ever find it if you keep wallowing in self-pity and regret or dwelling on your mistakes. Take your grace and go live your life.
Always,
