My (Small) Quarter-Life Crisis

This week as I was putting the paper together and debating on the topic of my weekly column when I came across a familiar name in our obituary section.
Daniel Ramsey.
I couldn’t figure out why the name rang a familiar bell until I read the entire obituary.
I reported on Daniel’s fight with cancer (June 24, 2003) and Montgomery Chiropractic Clinic’s work to help find a bone-marrow transplant.
At the time I wasn’t very interested in covering the story. I was caught up in a number of other stories the morning of the press conference with the family.
I wanted to pass the story along to an intern or another reporter, but I’m glad I didn’t.
Especially now.
I only met Daniel and his family once, but I will always be struck by his calmness, bravery and sweet spirit.
It was well with his soul.
Daniel was down to his last chance for a transplant.
His family members had been rejected and now he was left with finding a possible donor from the general public.
Yet, it was well with his soul.
I was so touched by Daniel and his family that I did something I should have done a long time ago, add my name to the National Registry of Bone Marrow Donors.
I unfortunately didn’t keep in touch with the Ramsey’s after the bone-marrow drive that was held for Daniel, but if his last six months were anything like the brief moment of time I had to meet him, they were well with his soul.
Daniel loved his family and loved life, yet even in the face of death -- it was well with his soul.
I’ve heard various people from time-to-time comment that a writer they read was always in search of themselves.
The more I write the more I think that’s true of all writers who are really honest with themselves and their readers.
I think that’s why we write.
We’re in search of ourselves and ultimately something greater than ourselves. We’re always questioning things.
As I look back at some of my writings I can easily see a pattern and see that I’m in search of myself and something greater.
Maybe it comes across to you, the reader, with more certainty than I feel, but the questioning is always there in my mind and in many ways I hope it’s always there.
As I turn 25 next week I’ve realized that for all intensive purposes my life is a quarter of the way over.
It’s a small quarter-life crisis I’m in.
I think my quarter-life crisis can be defined “as searching now -- to be assured that I don’t end up having a mid-life crisis at 50.”
25 years from now -- I’ll likely look back on my life and wonder if I chose the right path.
50 years from now -- I’ll likely look back and wonder if my life made a difference at all.
I’ll wonder if anything I ever did or said or wrote will be remembered by anyone.
It seems like lately I’ve been replaying the final scene of Saving Private Ryan through my mind as well.
Pvt. Ryan is standing in a cemetery of World War II soldiers and he recalls the last words Capt. John Miller told him -- the man who gave his life to bring Ryan home to his mother. “Earn this.”
Ryan turns to his wife and seems to beg her for assurance that he’s earned the sacrifices Miller and others made for him.
So as I break the quarter-century mark I continue to really question what I’m doing with my life and if I’m on the right career track or heading down the right path.
Maybe I should pack up and head to Asia or Africa for missionary work.
Or maybe I need to stop everything and focus on my side business.
There’s a number of if’s and maybe's I could stress over if I took the time.
But in the long run I just want to live a life content and happy so that at the end of my life I don’t have to look back and wonder if I did my best or chose the right path.
I want to always be able to say, no matter how many questions may come, “It is well with my soul.”
So while I remember Daniel, I hope that his family will know that he did make a difference to someone. I only wish I could have told him myself.
And I’m sure I’m not the only one.
So, for Daniel and the Ramsey family:
When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, “It is well, it is well with my soul.”
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this best assurance control: that Christ has regarded my helpless estate and he hath shed His own blood for my soul
It is well, with my soul.
My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought, my sin not in part, but the whole is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more, “Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord O my soul!”
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight. The clouds be rolled back like a scroll, the trumpets shall sound, and the Lord shall descend, “Praise the Lord, it is well with my soul!”
- Horatio G. Spafford