The revolving door . . .

Do you remember your last day of elementary school? I sure do. I waited eagerly at the door for the final bell to ring, ironically anxious to leave elementary school and move on to junior high. As I ran from the halls of Rosslyn Heights Elementary, my heart raced with enthusiasm. I was thrilled for summer, and excited at the new world that was Hillside Junior High. Despite my enthusiasm, however, I believe that even as a pre-adolescent twelve year old, I still realized somehow that life would never be the same once I left. Gone were the days of recess, of saving my money for the two edible foods in the cafeteria-peanut butter squares and pizza, of trading my mom's to-die-for chocolate chip cookies for Eric Anderson's Swiss Rolls, and gone were the days of being the fastest runner in the school. I was excited to leave elementary, nervous to be at the bottom of the newly complicated junior high heirarchy of popularity, but simultaneously enthused to begin a new adventure.

Funny how so many of the experiences of life are merely iterations of the past. I somehow managed to make it through junior high, then felt similarly mixed emotions upon leaving Hillside Intermediate to enter Highland High School, became teary eyed when I pulled off my football helmet for the last time as a senior and gazed up at my friends, coaches, and family as I sang the school song for the last time, was thrilled to leave for Brazil as a missionary but sad to leave family and nervous at the adventures that awaited me and then two short years later was thrilled to leave Brazil as a missionary but sad to leave family in my new home and nervous at the adventures that awaited me back at my suddenly unfamiliar home in Salt Lake.

The opening and closing of chapters in life is not so much a progressive journey down a long hallway as it is a revolving door. We enter just at the right moment when the door is open. If we wait too long, the revolving door will pass us by and we'll have to wait for the next time it comes around, missing out on the adventures available only once we take that step across the plane of the door. Once inside, we join others that have also chosen to enter the door at the same moment. We learn with them, we learn from them. We cry, we celebrate, we experience what that rotation of the revolving door has to offer. We don't often realize, however, that time continues to pass, that the revolving door is still doing that, revolving, evolving, changing. Just when we are comfortable, the door opens once again and we nervously must leave our familiar experiences and step into the unknown. We are saddened to leave what is left behind, but thrilled for the new experiences ahead. And then the door opens again, and we get in at just the right moment to start the next rotation of life's revolving door.

The door is closing on this last chapter of my life. I am sad to leave what has been so familiar to me for the past 5 years of life. I will not miss Provo itself, University Parkway traffic on a Friday night, church meetings in a biology lab, or the creepy and weird chant of the BYU fans lifting arms up and down in robot-like rhythm to the theme of Star Wars. I will, however, miss the great times with my bro and sis, my friends at work, and the important lessons of life learned while in P-town.

The revolving door of life continues, and with the close of this past chapter of life, the door once again opens to a whole new world, and I don't mean A Whole New World of magic carpets and "new horizons to pursue" like in Disney's Alladin.

What will this new world be like? How will this new world change my perspectives, my goals, dreams, and insights? What lessons will I gain in this new chapter of life? What is this new world, this new chapter of life to which I am referring? Well...

Tomorrow I will start medical school. Enough said.