What 2024 Taught Me About Life, Growth & Faith

“To make living itself an art, that is the goal.” — Henry Miller

At the end of every year, my friend Justin and I would reminisce on our encounters, experiences, lessons learned, mistakes we’ve made, and things that could’ve been better and discuss our aspirations for the coming year. This space of reflection is pertinent for us; we stepped out of our bodies, into the perspective of people, into the world, and back into ourselves — like waves rushing to the shores and receding to the ocean. This year, I’ve had to do this exercise alone. Two nights ago, in a low-lit room with Adele’s “Love In The Dark” song softly permeating the speaker, I grabbed my journal and pen and thought about the beautiful landscapes and terrifying steep edges I’ve walked this year: migrating to another country, places I’ve found strength, moments I’ve felt lost, and in the things I’ve found love. I want to share some of the things life has taught and reinforced in me this year in the following counts.

I. Desperation Blinds You From What’s Worth It: Embrace The Invaluable Lessons Of The Wait

When I graduated high school about two years ago, my hopes of studying in the United States gradually faded as I could not afford the out-of-pocket cost of the scholarships I received from many decent schools, considering the economic hardships in Liberia. At the same time, I was working two jobs, completing a degree-equivalent accelerated program I started in my junior year and enrolled in a local university in my country. My desperation to travel overshadowed the thought of celebrating the small victories and recognizing the progress I had made in my life. I felt bigger goals were equivalent to greater happiness (one of the biggest lies comparison and society have taught us). I didn’t realize that the lessons of waiting transcend cultivating patience; waiting had taught me the essence of slowing down, the fullness of things, and a deep appreciation for the work I’ve done, the friends I’ve made, and the development and systemic ordering I was undergoing.

II. Recognize Natural Disabilities as Part Of Your Wholesome Experience, Not a State Of Being An Outcast

On the cold and grey Sunday morning of October 13th, I was born to a mother whose prayers echoed in the corridors of hospitals months and years after my birth — I was born with a cleft lip and had been diagnosed with sickle cell anemia at an early stage. Restrictions have governed most of the years I’ve lived: food I cannot eat, activities I cannot do, and places I cannot go — all of which hinder my deliberate desire to be a risk-taker and reinforce my urge for freedom. I yearned for independence from the parameters of life that have made me feel like an outsider. I was tired of being affected by a network of disgruntled blood vessels that didn’t care about how I felt, but only that I did. Coming to Vanderbilt, I chose to explore this freedom to, for once, understand what it feels like rushing in the cold, grabbing a bite of pineapple, or shouting at the top of my lungs while imbibing cranberry juice and having seafood. Quite frankly, I enjoyed this transient freedom, like a couple truly in love, enjoys a welcome kiss when two mountains have separated them. But when the reality sunk in, when my flare-ups persisted, and my body became pain’s refuge, the people I had hung with, the ones I talked to briefly, and even my professors saw me past my current circumstances. The only person who had failed to see that these circumstances are part of the collective sum of my individual experiences in shaping my human capacity was me. Still, not anymore — I’ve grown comfortable with greeting people with the words of a WARRIOR(sickle cell patient).

III. Beyond Your Community, Certain People You Meet Are Not Friends, Partners, or Acquaintances. They’re Colors: Find Your Color

Ambivalence swept me off my feet when I was overwhelmed by the desire to experience a bustling new culture and the fear of leaving home for a long time. I would search through TikTok and tap into other international students’ perspectives to develop a picture of my experience in the United States. Honestly, those videos were never enough for me; I needed to disarm some of my unrealistic depictions and assumptions about cultural barriers, language, and belonging. I needed to speak with somebody as curious about my way of life and my world as I am about theirs. I met a girl from New York who, as grounded as she was in understanding what it takes to be an American, especially a black American, and navigating the culture, had a multitude of questions about the college experience, life in a different city, and the world outside that she’s never been to. We both carried questions within us: the small questions and the bigger ones. We had conversations that may not have provided a definitive answer to every question, but it brought some clarity. Sometimes, that’s the closest we get to the answers we have yet to experience, and that’s where our lives intersect, knowing we have some clarity to embrace both the known and vicissitudes of uncertainties.

IV. You Can Do Anything, but Not Everything: Trade-Offs Are Most Times Difficult Decisions Between Good & Better

I’ve been opportune to work on many projects, collaborate with friends, and plan events while maintaining a virtual full-time job. As my aspirations grew, I continued to add different activities without the thought of stretching myself thin and facing the somber reality that I’d been overly stressed while making little impact in many activities. I cared enough that I had so much to do. Simply put, I was living by default and not by design. I became exhausted from implementing the systems I’d built around tasks; sometimes, I stared at my computer for nearly an hour without getting anything done. I was just there. Tired. Traveling a few meters in many directions. In late September, my shoulders were crumbling from the weight of everything — school, jobs, extra projects, et al. I was overwhelmed. Perplexed. The only way out of this was to bend inwards, to audit my life. I decided to search within my own visions; to filter out what was good yet nonessential to me for the moment. I became intentional about traveling miles in a handful of places that were important for me, for my growth, and could’ve given me the space to breathe. I made bold and intentional decisions: I quit my job, walked away from a few projects, and eliminated some things I had considered priorities. When we prioritize the relationship between our time and the results we produce, and the peaceful lives we want to live, we tend to realize that less is more.

V. Faith Works When Systems Fail

After I had walked away from my pursuit of doing everything at once, the systems I had built around my life could not match up to my new routine. New visions require new systems, and great designs are simple, clear, and effective. Speedily creating new designs was a struggle as it was a crucial point at the time — I had exams, lab applications, and a series of flare-ups that weren’t improving. Every other strategy to adapt to my life’s extenuating circumstances, but my faith in God had failed. I woke up to scriptures and transcendental affirmations. And God’s truth, I watched myself blossom in tasks I thought were impossible. We believe that the measure of a person’s success is proportionate to their efforts, but lest we forget that some efforts are spiritual. The byproduct of these spiritual efforts is indomitable when everything else fails. This is why we must learn to trust, have faith, and stay grounded regardless of the sticky slopes and slippery surfaces we encounter.

“…..with all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it’s still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.” — Max Ehrmann, Desiderata