mused with mary

Every year on Thanksgiving I try to write. This morning, I sit in the quiet of my mom’s house and bask in the beauty of silence (no honking cars or beeping in reverse trucks outside window!). I listen for the Lord, and I’m thankful. This Thanksgiving is completely different from last Thanksgiving; instead of comparing the two and justifying which is better or worse, I’ve decided to embrace the change and find joy in the present time. The other day, one of my friends defined “joy” for me: a state of hope that isn’t fleeting or conditional. Always present. I think this is why Jesus Christ reminded us so often to be joyful—in triumph, trials, and everything in between. It isn’t a moment or a person or a situation that gives us joy. It is hope. Hope for a better future, an everlasting life of no pain, fear, or anxiety. Hope that what we are doing is making a difference—whether it be trying hard every day for our children, working every day to make ends meet, praying for a concern that hasn’t yet been answered, or living a thousand miles away from those you love to become a doctor. We do it all with joy for tomorrow, that tomorrow will be better today, and we hold that hope above all else. Joy and hope keep us going.

This time last year, my future was uncertain. I was interviewing at medical schools and finishing up my last year of college, without a real sense of where I would be this time next year. I was confident in God’s plan for me and trusted Him throughout the journey. When I got into Harvard, I was over the moon, but I was also scared. It became a reality that I would be leaving my family, my boyfriend, and my home for at least four years. I worried that I would lose touch with those I love, that my niece and nephew would not remember me, that long-distance would be riddled with problems, and that I would find out I wasn’t really cut out for medicine. But like all things, God has power over tomorrow and will always provide.

This year, I’m thankful for change. It is hard, and it rubs against the grain that we’ve made in life but helps us find new places for joy. I’m thankful that God put me in Boston. I love the city (despite the cars honking and beeps in the morning), and I’ve made the most wonderful friends who are kind, compassionate, and will make important changes in healthcare. Ultimately, I’m thankful for friends who push me to become a better me. I’ve found a Christian community that reminds me to pray often, fellowship with others, and live into the freedom that God gives us. My relationship with Avery has changed as we navigate loving from a distance, and I’m so thankful for his constant support and ability to adapt as life moves around us. I’ve had to be more intentional about calling family and staying connected. I’m thankful for the long calls and FaceTime chats we have about life. I have fallen in love with medicine and thank God for helping me believe in myself. I didn’t realize the beauty of working with patients, being trusted during sometimes the scariest time of a person’s life, and having the power to really make a difference in the lives of others. I love learning about complex medical problems and having hope that new, life-saving discoveries will be made in areas like genetics, cancer, and heart disease. I’m thankful for financial stability, the ability to live in Boston and attend school, and those who so generously help me. I’m thankful that my family is healthy and well. The gift of health is fragile and fleeting, and it really is our responsibility to do what we can for as long as we can.

I’m thankful for home, both the place and the people, because without it none of this would matter. Home is where I’m grounded, renewed, refreshed, and reminded of what’s important. Home helps me remember that change comes unexpectedly at times, but joy and hope persist despite evolving circumstances. That is something to be thankful for.