Since I was a kid, I’ve had big dreams. My first vocational aspiration was to be a marine biologist. Sea life and the wonders of the unexplored enthralled me. But I was really captivated by the sharks––big sharks––like the Great White or the Megalodon (a fifty-foot, prehistoric anomaly amongst aquatic carnivores). Sharks were “cool” for me (back when “cool” was a word I often used).
By the time I entered high school, my vocational paradigm switched from the seas to the lands. I wanted to be the POTUS. Of course, I knew, like any other fourteen year old, that I could not be the President until I was at least thirty-five years of age (see U.S. Const., Art. II), but I figured I had a lot of work to do in mean time. Looking back, I see that I had too high of expectations for the presidency (i.e., just look at our 45th president). Nevertheless, I was caught reading The Federalist Papers, the works of Glen Beck (back when he was a thing), and other constitutional paraphernalia while on the school bus. I started Young Republicans as a freshman in high school, and our team helped the current Vice President of the United States, Mike Pence, when he was running for Governor of Indiana (I’ve got photo evidence). That was pretty awesome.
Sophomore year of high school marks another paradigm shift in my life. Our new youth pastor inspired me to give my life to the ministry, which I did, and did so whole-heartedly: I started bible studies at the high school, evangelized in the locker room, spoke weekly on the radio about the bible, and quit varsity basketball my senior year to focus on ministry. On September 18, 2015, as many of my readers know (i.e., my mom), this ministerial paradigm shifted quickly––and this time by force.
After being hit by a car as a pedestrian, I woke from a thirty day coma with a new paradigm for life. It was an obvious one: to get better. But I knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that I would get better. One of my first thoughts after the coma was Romans 8:28, that God would work this injury out for my good and for his glory. I believed that promise and figured, if this injury is going to work out for my good, then why wait to get to the “good”? Why not work as hard as I can to speed the “good” along and bring it from an abstract promise to a concrete present? So I went to work. I left rehab six months ahead of schedule, graduated high school a semester early, started college, and got married all within the first year of the recovery.
The second year of my recovery marks a more recent paradigm shift. I met a lawyer and got inspired to go to law school, which I ended up doing (and what I should probably be doing right now instead of writing this blog). I went from the cognitive capacity of an eight year old to that of a law student in less than three years. Talk about growth. (Either that or, as my uncle jokes, “law school’s are letting anybody in these days!”).
Today, I have about one week left until I am finished with my second year of law school at Indiana University Maurer School of Law. It is bittersweet, but not in the way you are probably thinking. Yes, law school went by fast. But need I remind you? Life goes by fast. What’s really bittersweet about entering my final year of law school is not just that it is almost over and I’ll miss all the great people (e.g., s/o to J. Felty, Prof. Sanders & Geyh, etc.) I’ve met along the way. What’s bittersweet about entering my final year of law school is that I have an amazing daughter named Scarlett Jane, who turns one year old tomorrow (May 1).
Did you catch the new paradigm shift? I used to have all of these goals and dreams for myself, but now, with my perfect daughter, I can’t see my dreams anymore––all I see are hers. All I see is how much I want to be in her life. All I see is a beautiful young mind that has been entrusted to me. All I see is endless potential. Anything that I see regarding my life has a road back to Scarlett. She’s become my new paradigm.
But this Scarlett paradigm is probably going to rock soon:
We’ve got triplets on the way.
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