Before Senior Retreat, Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” struck me like a bolt of lightning. With graduation around the corner, Dylan hauntingly reminded me that my unclear path for the future ran through Loan Debt Mountain, one of the tallest of all mountains – and I’m afraid of heights. “How does it feel / to be on your own” suddenly became “How does it feel to know you’re going to be poor for the next decade?”

But once I rolled up to Tickfaw State Park, I was surrounded by about 15 other seniors who shared similar fates: getting kicked into the streets of a world gone wrong. Too many graduates, too little jobs, too many job requirements, too little experience, too many bills, too little cash – realizations that spiral on until a mental breakdown is reached. “Maybe I’ll get a lobotomy so I can sit fat on federal money,” I thought. I don’t have much personality anyway, so it’d be a win-win.

The retreat encouraged a series of contemplative reflections, where all of my fears and worries shined brightly in my face and burned my eyes. Having no hope for myself, my fellow graduates, or the human race, my big question was, “How can there be a God when he allows my future to look so grim?”

After going on several University Ministry retreats, it was as if God only existed in the wilderness. I spent many months between the Emmaus and Awakening retreats in reflection, but my reflections were becoming less productive. I didn’t want to go to the woods to worry about the things I already worried about.

But contemplation and reflection became less important as Senior Retreat went on. Discussions were more frequent, and all the issues I was faced with were exposed. I began hearing everyone’s story, each one wondering how they were going to make money, where they were going to live, what their families would think if they didn’t go home and if they would fail to reach their ambitions.

I realized then how foolish I had been. In all my time reflecting and worrying about things I could not control, I had stopped listening. God was not an audible voice, but I started to hear him through my peers, and I began to understand that nothing was going to work out the way I wanted or planned. There was no reason to worry about life after graduation. I recognized that there was still time to grow; I couldn’t let my unclear path define my life, but instead, let my life define my path.

Alex Haase is an English writing senior and can be reached at [email protected]