Surprises Around Every Corner

I’ve had a lot on my mind the last few days. A huge opportunity that I’d never asked for just sort of plopped in my lap on Friday and has been looming on my conscious for a better part of the weekend.

It’s odd when things like this happen because, well… they never happen to me. I’ve never been one for whom things came easily. Everything required some amount of pleading and praying, pain and sacrifice, patience and crossed fingers. But this? It came straight out of the blue, perfectly wrapped in pretty paper, almost too good to be true.

It scares me to realize that, at this stage of my life, nothing is holding me back. I have no huge obligations or responsibilities. Nothing. No one. I am as free as a bird, and it’s terrifying.

Last night I cried in the bathroom, pleading with God to give me some reason to stay here in Nashville.

As weird as it sounds, there are parts of me that want for someone to beg me to stay. (A bit of my romantic side coming through, I suppose.) I want for a gallant knight to come running after me, and, with tears streaming down his face, grab my hand and tell me that his world would end without me near. Sadly… that’s not the case. At all. Hardly.

As I shared the news with friends here, there was this small sliver of hope that someone would express their deep heartache at the thought of me leaving so soon after arriving. But, that hasn’t really been the case. Instead, they have been... supportive. [gasp!] One friend was even as bold as to advise me to run after any and every opportunity that this life may throw at you. You can always come back is what he said. But, I can’t chase the wind like he does or jump headfirst into the rabbit hole. The fear of dying, of failing, of getting lost in the shuffle is enough to have me running for safety.

It’s so strange that this comes now. Now, that I’m finding my footing. Now, that I’m learning to enjoy my life here. Now, that I’m falling in love with my church and these friends who’ve etched out little niches in this tiny heart of mine.

And, I have to ask in all honesty, Why now, God? After three years of waiting and watching Him open doors to come here… Why… now? I’ve only been here six months. A blip in the radar. A mere paragraph’s worth in what I thought would be a chapter of my life. I feel as if the story, in many ways, has yet to fully unfold.

It's true, I can always come back. But... to what? Who knows how the sands of time will mark us (me) or how distance will loosen heartstrings? I already feel the strain of change in my relationships with the people back home in Philly. And Nashville, I am afraid, is just as transient a city as Philadelphia. As hard as I may try to keep in the loop, it's inevitable that phone calls and emails will be missed or spread apart as I live my life and you live yours.

I honestly don't know what (or to whom) I'd be returning.

I think of my friend Cameron and the tough decisions he needed to make when he was preparing to leave for the Peace Corps. He'll be away for two more years, and I wonder at the anxiety he felt as he realized that life would continue without him here, that he (this city and everyone else for that matter) would be different.

Reason would tell me that I should take the opportunity and run with it, gain all the experience I can, tuck it under my belt and head back here or onward to some other city. Caution tells me to tread softly – that to leave this position I’ve now had for a mere 4 months would be professional suicide. It tells me that I need to stay at least a year, gain experience, investigate and search out opportunities to work with the existing refugee populations and use these resources to the best of my abilities. And Faith tells me that either decision will be for His glory in the end. There are no mistakes in the grand story of Grace, after all.

It’s all too confusing. And, I’m having mild panic attacks. Daily.

The Game of Life

I’ve been thinking a lot about life the past few days and weeks. What it means. What our purpose is here.

As I sit here praying and hoping for the best for the sick parents of two friends, I think about what an honor it is to be gifted with life. Out of millions of people and an infinite number of DNA combinations that could have been pieced together, each of us was perfectly, lovingly and wonderfully designed by the masterful hands of a great Creator God. Where we are, who we are, when we are, are all His doing.

There is a call, I think, to strive to be more than we are comfortable with being. Our lives are so short here – a mere breath in the scope of time. Deep down we all know this to be true. I think it’s the reason why we all have this innate desire to want to “make a name” for ourselves. We will toil and work endlessly, sacrifice relationships and rest, and all for what? So we can show how much we’re worth? The car you drive, the clothes you wear, the achievements and accolade, it’s all bunk. When we are gone, no one will remember you as the cool guy with the awesome sports car, or that girl with the perfect skin whom all the boys fell head over feet for. In the end, all that will remain of us is our character and how well we lived.

When I am long gone, I don’t want it said of me that I had pretty hair or that I dressed/sang/wrote/cooked well. I hope that people will remember my actions, the way I loved, the way I served.

God has placed us here, each of us, to be His hands and feet -- His heart pouring out for a broken, suffering world. It’s a high calling, and we will fail (alone), that is a given.

It isn’t easy at all to be this… even for people like me. People gifted (or cursed) with “bleeding hearts” as AllieDearest would like to say. There are days I’d rather do what I want without regard for those around me, days I’d rather treat myself well than sacrifice for another, days I’d rather be cold and selfish especially when people hurt me, days when my sinful heart gets the best of me and shows an ugliness that I cannot bear or control. But, I am learning that in being obedient, in doing as He desires, in (trying to) love as He does, in practicing forgiveness (even when it hurts to), my heart changes… hopefully. In time it warms, becomes more malleable and eventually fits a little more snuggly into the mold He originally designed for me. The one I was always intended to fit, but was too cold, too stubborn and unyielding to want to be squeezed into.

I was (am) a square peg when I was intended to be a round one.

We all are.