As it is the end of the year, I have been reflecting a lot on this past year. This year has had a lot of personal growth in it. I have found that there are so many incredible people, both world famous and just your average Joe, who have some really powerful and inspirational thoughts to share. I thought before I continued my posts on grief I would take a moment to share some of the ones that have particularly impacted me this year.
Many of these are resources into my thoughts/ideas and are inspiration to making myself the better woman I am. I would encourage you to look into them.
14 impacting reads of 2014:
(in no particular order)
1. Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer
2. Bittersweet, Shauna Niequest
3. Let's All be Brave, Annie F. Downs
4. In the Name of Jesus, Henri Houwen
5. Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown
6. Most of Well Balanced World Changer, Sarah Cunningham
7. Let Justice Roll Down, John Perkins
8. Some of A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis
9. Anything from Mundane Faithfulness blog, Kara Tippetts
10. Blogs on MK things: "Bittersweet Comfort of the Past" and "Why Missionaries Can Never Go Home Again"
11. Many posts about missionary life on A Life Overseas
12. Really anything Shauna, but particularly from her blog: "Glimpse" and "Put Yourself on the Pride Board"
13. My Bible (not nearly enough though)
14. These devotionals from She Reads Truth
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Monday, December 22, 2014
Pt. 3 When I Lost Christmas
This holiday season I recognize a lot of loss in my life.
There is some
loss that is very deep and emotional, like having my parents on the
other side of the world, or having said hard goodbyes to dear friends
recently. But like the past 2 Christmas' in the States, Christmas has
not felt the same. My Freshman year I spent Christmas morning in tears
because my heart was so homesick. Last year I spent it surrounded by
presents and family yet it did not feel the same. And this year it is
like it has lost all the charm that I remember it having. I told a
friend that I was on a mission to make this year feel like Christmas!!
However, I realized the other day that for a long time I have tried to
force
Christmas to be a certain way, and as a result it feels...forced fit.
Sadly, Christmas will never be the same as it was before- even
if I had all my family gathered together, if I sang all the songs
and ate all the cookies, I am no longer a child growing up in the
tropics of PNG. I had to, in a really real way, let go of all my
fantasies
and expectations of what Christmas was. A loss of childhood.
That does not mean however, that Christmas will never feel special again. I know in years to come that I will build up new traditions and start to embrace Christmas as an adult. I will learn how to spread cheer and love and I will love Christmas again. This year I am letting it be what it is. Focusing on the birth of Christ, which is more important then any present, cookie or even family member. Maybe it does not feel Christmasy, but it feels peaceful and I am okay with that right now.
I ended an old blog with the words "And I have learned that grieving is okay, as long as you don't let yourself get lost in it" (What I Left Behind) and the reason I type these things is because I think it is vital that we acknowledge loss and allow ourselves room to grieve. I quickly follow up with the need to tell you that it is also departmental to wallow in your grief past its' time. But this holiday season as I acknowledged the loss of a child's view of Christmas I have been filled with more peace and contentment then I have the past couple Christmas'. Part of that can be attributed to the gracious prayers of others, but I honestly think that a lot of that is that I let myself be bummed for a moment that I will never be a kid again.
(If you feel like I am taking grief or loss pretty lightly or in a petty situation, stay tuned for when I start exploring the idea of grief and my reflections on it further in future parts)
That does not mean however, that Christmas will never feel special again. I know in years to come that I will build up new traditions and start to embrace Christmas as an adult. I will learn how to spread cheer and love and I will love Christmas again. This year I am letting it be what it is. Focusing on the birth of Christ, which is more important then any present, cookie or even family member. Maybe it does not feel Christmasy, but it feels peaceful and I am okay with that right now.
I ended an old blog with the words "And I have learned that grieving is okay, as long as you don't let yourself get lost in it" (What I Left Behind) and the reason I type these things is because I think it is vital that we acknowledge loss and allow ourselves room to grieve. I quickly follow up with the need to tell you that it is also departmental to wallow in your grief past its' time. But this holiday season as I acknowledged the loss of a child's view of Christmas I have been filled with more peace and contentment then I have the past couple Christmas'. Part of that can be attributed to the gracious prayers of others, but I honestly think that a lot of that is that I let myself be bummed for a moment that I will never be a kid again.
(If you feel like I am taking grief or loss pretty lightly or in a petty situation, stay tuned for when I start exploring the idea of grief and my reflections on it further in future parts)
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Pt. 2 Losing Family and Friends
Everyone has experienced loss of some kind in their lifetime, even if it has not necessarily been a physical death. Going through life there is a rhythm that has some loss that is natural, expected, healthy. At some point we lose our childhood, our innocence or our naivety. We say goodbye to different seasons of life, like school years, or summers away at camp. But I also think it is also safe to say that everyone has experienced a more physical loss of friends or family moving away or a death of a relative.
I talked greatly about different forms of loss in my life in my counseling sessions last year. It started off with talking about leaving a place that I called home for 15 years, knowing that I would never live their again, or even know if I would be back to visit. With that came the loss of just a whole season of life and a way of living. But much of that was expressing the deepness of grief that had bruised my heart from saying goodbye to friend after friend. I give a badge of courage to all my fellow missionary kid friends because it is not easy to live a life of constant transition and uncertainty and have to put on a good face. Many MKs struggle because maybe their parents followed the call of the Lord, but they had no choice in the matter. I recognize that this is what the Lord had for our family, and I always have tried to feel apart of that and support that- but that does not mean that it is easier. It is easy to let your heart get calloused and knowing that someone may be in your life for only a year gives you all the excuses of the world to hold them at an arm's length. But it is with courage that we vulnerably let them into our stories. I think of the quote "better to love and lose then to never love at all". (And I have found that it is not just an MK thing, but that people come and go in all seasons of life...grieving the loss of good college friends that moved also this year)
Another way I worked towards resolving loss in my life was the death of my grandfather. My grandpa Walker was a faithful Godly man who picked us up and dropped us off at the airport every time we traveled to and from Ohio. He advocated the work of my family in PNG more then anyone I know and visited us overseas on multiple occasions. He passed away my Junior year of High School while I was in PNG and I never got to say goodbye. My parents happened to leave for a conference in the States the very same morning, so I was left all alone in a hostel thousands of miles away from my grieving family (not blaming my parents at all). One of the last memories of him was sitting with him on his front porch, watching a lightning storm and talking about everything under the sun. I wish I soaked in more wisdom that day, but one of the few things I remember him saying is "I hope I get to see Leslie get married." All I know is when I talked with my kind counselor I realized that I never really allowed myself to grieve the loss of one of the greatest men I knew. Coming back to the States and not having his happy face waiting for me in the airport was strange and empty and visiting his grave was surreal. It didn't feel like it happened when it did because I was so far away. I was scared to talk about it because I didn't want to sound petty or depressing, but it didn't occur to me that I needed to process it and that I couldn't ignore something that was important to me.
The last thing that I am going to add to this part is the loss of my family. I preface this with the fact that the Lord has been working on my heart this year in that I am so blessed to have a happy and healthy family. But, when there are Walkers living in Ohio, Kansas and Papua New Guinea there are days when I think I can feel every mile that spans the distance. My parents returned to the mission field in September and though it is not the first time we have been apart, the goodbye never gets easier. Having parents move across the world doesn't mean just losing them, it means losing the convenience of calling them up on the phone for a question, losing having a place to go home for the holidays, losing being in the same time zone, some of your favorite home cooked meals, etc. My mom does an incredible job to do everything she can to make the distance softer but it still stings. I feel so often that I have to put on a brave face so that people think that the distance isn't a problem. People say I'm strong and that they could never imagine going that long apart. I feel like I have to do well so that my parents don't feel guilty for obeying the Lord to return. And I have to pretend like I am a good MK that trusts in the Lord's plan. It is only recently that I have vulnerably let my friends know that I do miss my mommy. That Christmas is one of the hardest times of years. And that I honestly am not as strong as you make me out to be. In my act to be strong and brave I stifle the space for my heart to grieve the fact that I have lost a little sense of normal and the ability to easily love.
I talked greatly about different forms of loss in my life in my counseling sessions last year. It started off with talking about leaving a place that I called home for 15 years, knowing that I would never live their again, or even know if I would be back to visit. With that came the loss of just a whole season of life and a way of living. But much of that was expressing the deepness of grief that had bruised my heart from saying goodbye to friend after friend. I give a badge of courage to all my fellow missionary kid friends because it is not easy to live a life of constant transition and uncertainty and have to put on a good face. Many MKs struggle because maybe their parents followed the call of the Lord, but they had no choice in the matter. I recognize that this is what the Lord had for our family, and I always have tried to feel apart of that and support that- but that does not mean that it is easier. It is easy to let your heart get calloused and knowing that someone may be in your life for only a year gives you all the excuses of the world to hold them at an arm's length. But it is with courage that we vulnerably let them into our stories. I think of the quote "better to love and lose then to never love at all". (And I have found that it is not just an MK thing, but that people come and go in all seasons of life...grieving the loss of good college friends that moved also this year)
Another way I worked towards resolving loss in my life was the death of my grandfather. My grandpa Walker was a faithful Godly man who picked us up and dropped us off at the airport every time we traveled to and from Ohio. He advocated the work of my family in PNG more then anyone I know and visited us overseas on multiple occasions. He passed away my Junior year of High School while I was in PNG and I never got to say goodbye. My parents happened to leave for a conference in the States the very same morning, so I was left all alone in a hostel thousands of miles away from my grieving family (not blaming my parents at all). One of the last memories of him was sitting with him on his front porch, watching a lightning storm and talking about everything under the sun. I wish I soaked in more wisdom that day, but one of the few things I remember him saying is "I hope I get to see Leslie get married." All I know is when I talked with my kind counselor I realized that I never really allowed myself to grieve the loss of one of the greatest men I knew. Coming back to the States and not having his happy face waiting for me in the airport was strange and empty and visiting his grave was surreal. It didn't feel like it happened when it did because I was so far away. I was scared to talk about it because I didn't want to sound petty or depressing, but it didn't occur to me that I needed to process it and that I couldn't ignore something that was important to me.
The last thing that I am going to add to this part is the loss of my family. I preface this with the fact that the Lord has been working on my heart this year in that I am so blessed to have a happy and healthy family. But, when there are Walkers living in Ohio, Kansas and Papua New Guinea there are days when I think I can feel every mile that spans the distance. My parents returned to the mission field in September and though it is not the first time we have been apart, the goodbye never gets easier. Having parents move across the world doesn't mean just losing them, it means losing the convenience of calling them up on the phone for a question, losing having a place to go home for the holidays, losing being in the same time zone, some of your favorite home cooked meals, etc. My mom does an incredible job to do everything she can to make the distance softer but it still stings. I feel so often that I have to put on a brave face so that people think that the distance isn't a problem. People say I'm strong and that they could never imagine going that long apart. I feel like I have to do well so that my parents don't feel guilty for obeying the Lord to return. And I have to pretend like I am a good MK that trusts in the Lord's plan. It is only recently that I have vulnerably let my friends know that I do miss my mommy. That Christmas is one of the hardest times of years. And that I honestly am not as strong as you make me out to be. In my act to be strong and brave I stifle the space for my heart to grieve the fact that I have lost a little sense of normal and the ability to easily love.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Exploring Grief and Loss, Pt. 1
It has been on my heart for a while to write this blog, but it has taken a long time to get myself to face this blank screen. Part of that is procrastination, part is letting it stew, pondering, processing and then finally a small amount is just the fear of finding the right words. I do not feel like I am any expert on this topic and there are probably countless self helps and heartbreaking yet enlightening stories out there. But I am just going to humbly lay out my heart in the best words I can find. In fear of getting too wordy I am going to break this into multiple parts. My hope is that some sort of encouragement or insight can be found in them.
Everyone talks about college and how fun and exciting it is, with opportunity knocking on every door. They also say that you find yourself in college, not saying that you were ever really lost. There are many ways you can "find yourself"- you can (begin to) find what you are going to contribute to this world. There is finding what kind of integrity you have, or a just overall testing of the character you have developed. There is finding who you are, individualistically under all the layers and what makes you passionate and excited. And finally, there is the kind of finding that is never fun or easy. It is finding the realities of the dark and personal. They are the findings of character flaws and hidden sins as well as unearthed secrets and grudges.
During my time at college I have faced all those findings. The good, the bad and the ugly. It is humbly that I can say that I have found more clearly where I stand in ethics and religion and know clearer the kind of person I want to be remembered as. It is with much joy that I can say that I have found the Leslie who loves caring for other and has a heart for orphans and is actively pursuing a life overseas. And it is with sincerity that I can say that I have found the dark and ugly sides of myself that I have been trained by the culture to mask so well. As fun and exciting as college is, it is hard- not just because of the academics and busy schedules but because you have to face these things head on when you least expect them.
All this to say, for most of last year I went to the counseling center at my college. (I am not ashamed of that what so ever because I feel like everyone can gain from a counselor) Much of this unearthing and dirty work took place in that small, warm room and one of the many things we attempted to untangle was unresolved grief and loss.
Everyone talks about college and how fun and exciting it is, with opportunity knocking on every door. They also say that you find yourself in college, not saying that you were ever really lost. There are many ways you can "find yourself"- you can (begin to) find what you are going to contribute to this world. There is finding what kind of integrity you have, or a just overall testing of the character you have developed. There is finding who you are, individualistically under all the layers and what makes you passionate and excited. And finally, there is the kind of finding that is never fun or easy. It is finding the realities of the dark and personal. They are the findings of character flaws and hidden sins as well as unearthed secrets and grudges.
During my time at college I have faced all those findings. The good, the bad and the ugly. It is humbly that I can say that I have found more clearly where I stand in ethics and religion and know clearer the kind of person I want to be remembered as. It is with much joy that I can say that I have found the Leslie who loves caring for other and has a heart for orphans and is actively pursuing a life overseas. And it is with sincerity that I can say that I have found the dark and ugly sides of myself that I have been trained by the culture to mask so well. As fun and exciting as college is, it is hard- not just because of the academics and busy schedules but because you have to face these things head on when you least expect them.
All this to say, for most of last year I went to the counseling center at my college. (I am not ashamed of that what so ever because I feel like everyone can gain from a counselor) Much of this unearthing and dirty work took place in that small, warm room and one of the many things we attempted to untangle was unresolved grief and loss.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
When Dreams Come True
Another semester has drawn to a close and there is so much to process, more then I am probably aware to be honest. It has truly been a really long semester and I have that weary to the bones feeling yet I am filled with gratitude, love and joy from the never ceasing stream of grace and blessings.
There is probably a lot of thoughts to be teased out here in the near future but right now I find myself in a Chattanooga coffee shop and my heart is overwhelmed. You see, my heart gets wildly happy when I see my friends living their dreams.This semester has been a semester of us all stepping more and more into our own. With this is challenges, road blocks, disappointment: tears...but paralleled with triumphs, hope, opportunities: celebration.
As I type this, one of my best friends is arriving in Paris. She has only dreamed of this day her whole life. Taylor was made for Paris and the thought of her walking the lit up streets, standing wide eyed below the Eiffel Tower or eating fine French cuisine makes me beyond happy for her.
Also at this moment my other dear friend is moving all her stuff to Disney. Hannah loves Disney more than Taylor loves Paris. So the day that she got accepted to do the Disney College program was one of the sweetest days of all. It is sad to see her go, yet I can stay sad long because I am entirely too excited for her.
And now as I sit here at Cadence Coffee Co. I watch Shelby live out her dreams, the truest desires of her heart. As she shares with me what the Lord has done in her life since she so courageously moved out here from Texas a couple months ago, I am so inspired and elated.
I also have so many friends who have made big decisions in their lives in the past months and just like these 3 ladies I recognize this sense of audacity that comes with follow ones dreams. Taylor worked long hours and made tough decisions to make this trip possible, Hannah had to give up so much and say many goodbyes to move. And Shelby has moved across country by herself and stepped into so many new opportunities.
At the very beginning of the new year my dorm questioned the girls "What would you do if you were not afraid?" In the photo booth is was beautiful to watch them write down their fears and their dreams (sometimes synonymously). It seems fitting that I am sitting here at the end of the year watching some of them fulfilling those, or having been inspired to not let the fear stifle the desires of their hearts.
If you know me, you know that I have been named this year the "year of confidence" and have been striving to find ways to walk in courage and trust. Part of that is allowing myself to pursue my dreams more courageously. As the year closes I know that I can be proud of the growth I have seen in myself but also as I reflect on watching my friends step up into their own dreams I recognize that this journey of confidence has just begun. There are still so many walls I have between me and the things that my heart yearns to do, and there are days when I don't feel strong enough to move beyond those. But now it is evident that those are possible if I really want to work for them.
So I ask you today, what is holding you back today from stepping into the dreams you have?
There is probably a lot of thoughts to be teased out here in the near future but right now I find myself in a Chattanooga coffee shop and my heart is overwhelmed. You see, my heart gets wildly happy when I see my friends living their dreams.This semester has been a semester of us all stepping more and more into our own. With this is challenges, road blocks, disappointment: tears...but paralleled with triumphs, hope, opportunities: celebration.
As I type this, one of my best friends is arriving in Paris. She has only dreamed of this day her whole life. Taylor was made for Paris and the thought of her walking the lit up streets, standing wide eyed below the Eiffel Tower or eating fine French cuisine makes me beyond happy for her.
Also at this moment my other dear friend is moving all her stuff to Disney. Hannah loves Disney more than Taylor loves Paris. So the day that she got accepted to do the Disney College program was one of the sweetest days of all. It is sad to see her go, yet I can stay sad long because I am entirely too excited for her.
And now as I sit here at Cadence Coffee Co. I watch Shelby live out her dreams, the truest desires of her heart. As she shares with me what the Lord has done in her life since she so courageously moved out here from Texas a couple months ago, I am so inspired and elated.
I also have so many friends who have made big decisions in their lives in the past months and just like these 3 ladies I recognize this sense of audacity that comes with follow ones dreams. Taylor worked long hours and made tough decisions to make this trip possible, Hannah had to give up so much and say many goodbyes to move. And Shelby has moved across country by herself and stepped into so many new opportunities.
At the very beginning of the new year my dorm questioned the girls "What would you do if you were not afraid?" In the photo booth is was beautiful to watch them write down their fears and their dreams (sometimes synonymously). It seems fitting that I am sitting here at the end of the year watching some of them fulfilling those, or having been inspired to not let the fear stifle the desires of their hearts.
So I ask you today, what is holding you back today from stepping into the dreams you have?
Thursday, December 4, 2014
What I Left Behind
On June 24, 2012 I said one of the deepest goodbyes my heart has ever known. Some days it feels like that day was just a foggy dream and yet other days the memory is crystal clear and the pain still has the ability to pierce my heart. I remember the tender moments of waiting for them to call my flight while in the van with my few remaining friends. Final embraces and the long walk to the small airplane. I was not crying because I had run out of tears. The safety instruction seemed to take an eternity. Until the plane got to the end of the strip and with increasing speed raced forward and I watched desperately as I saw my friends wave goodbye from the hanger and all of a sudden they were little ants. My heart caught and my lungs got that tight feeling making it hard to breath because reality took over my body. The plane circled around our small missionary center and I took in every scene one last moment, as memories from a sweet sweet childhood spent there flooded my mind. I grasped the yearbook in my hands that was filled with kind notes and special signatures and as I opened the first page, tears began to waterfall. Fortunately the small plane was so loud that my tears could not be heard. I remember leaving for furlough once as a young girl and a high school graduate was on the plane with us. She sobbed so loud that my heart broke for her. In that moment of tears, that long held memory made sense and I wanted to telle-port back in time and tell her, it's okay, I know how you feel.
That day on the plane I watched what seemed to be my whole world fade away. Saying goodbye was deeper than missing my friends, because there is always reunions and Skype. Saying goodbye was not necessarily that I will never ever see that place again (though possibly). It was saying goodbye to that season of life that I will never get back. Even if I was to return to PNG, and even if my friends go with me, it wouldn't be the same. Home will never be home again, because to me home was not a place but a state of being. It was growing up in a small community, discovering the world along side my missionary kid friends, it was the simplicity of life and quiet Sunday afternoon walks. It was what I considered stress and business, but nothing like life on this side. It was innocence, comfort and adventure. It was the memories worth keeping and the ones that I would rather move on from.
It was a 15 year investment that shaped the deepest parts of my being. On that plane I didn't realize that the next couple years would be spent untangling the complexity of being an MK and figuring out how deep that place had touched me. But I think in that moment I knew everything I needed to know. I knew that my heart hurt, and that was okay. I knew that my life was changed but I don't think I could have handled knowing the fullness of reality. And by the true grace of God, I knew that my life was far from over. While I grieved deeply the closing of this chapter, I held to hope that there was so much more for me to come.
And I can say, sitting here, that even though my heart is restless and I would give a whole lot to be back in that place for just a moment, God's hope does not disappoint and there really is so much more then I could have ever ask, dream or imagine.
I've grieved many times everything that I had to leave behind that day. And I have learned that grieving is okay, as long as you don't let yourself get lost in it.
That day on the plane I watched what seemed to be my whole world fade away. Saying goodbye was deeper than missing my friends, because there is always reunions and Skype. Saying goodbye was not necessarily that I will never ever see that place again (though possibly). It was saying goodbye to that season of life that I will never get back. Even if I was to return to PNG, and even if my friends go with me, it wouldn't be the same. Home will never be home again, because to me home was not a place but a state of being. It was growing up in a small community, discovering the world along side my missionary kid friends, it was the simplicity of life and quiet Sunday afternoon walks. It was what I considered stress and business, but nothing like life on this side. It was innocence, comfort and adventure. It was the memories worth keeping and the ones that I would rather move on from.
It was a 15 year investment that shaped the deepest parts of my being. On that plane I didn't realize that the next couple years would be spent untangling the complexity of being an MK and figuring out how deep that place had touched me. But I think in that moment I knew everything I needed to know. I knew that my heart hurt, and that was okay. I knew that my life was changed but I don't think I could have handled knowing the fullness of reality. And by the true grace of God, I knew that my life was far from over. While I grieved deeply the closing of this chapter, I held to hope that there was so much more for me to come.
And I can say, sitting here, that even though my heart is restless and I would give a whole lot to be back in that place for just a moment, God's hope does not disappoint and there really is so much more then I could have ever ask, dream or imagine.
I've grieved many times everything that I had to leave behind that day. And I have learned that grieving is okay, as long as you don't let yourself get lost in it.
When I'm Scared to Stay
Starting a new blog in attempt to capture my wandering MK's heart into feeble words.
A MK's life is laced with moving, good-byes: inconsistency. We all know that. Like most MK's my heart craves consistency. As trivial as it is, one of my top bucket-list items (following "Safari in Africa", "Hot air balloon ride" and "Visit all 50 States") is "Have 'the usual' at a local coffee shop". It sounds warm and inviting, like out of a movie and it means one thing- that I had lived there long enough for the usual to be developed. It is to be seen, be heard and be recognized.
This is my 3rd year here at college and the time has slipped by faster then ever. And quickly I am aware of what a life I have set up here. The lady at Einstein's even knows my name! But surprisingly, more and more my heart becomes restless and much to my disbelief I looked at my roommate last night and said "I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to start over". I began to think about all the people I would leave behind and what I would miss out on so I wondered why I felt this way.
My conclusion was this: I'm scared to stay.
I'm scared because it is rare for me to reach this stage. This next step of living in tight community where you have been vulnerable and know- I mean really know- each other and it is time to push deeper. I do vulnerable well. I do "get to know each others life story" well. And that is where it ends. These people have seen me at my best and my worst, they know what I could be and they know what I am.
And when I do not feel like I am enough I wish to move onward so I can meet new people who don't know better.
There is commitment required in staying and though I'm known as the loyal friend to many, I feel too weak to stay. I know that moving, transitions, making new friends- all of it- is extremely hard...because I have done it time and time again. But right now that sounds fun and adventurous and quiet frankly, there is a whole lot to hide behind.
Maybe my heart just needs adventure and the only cure lies in the seats of an airplane.
But for now, I'm staying. Because that in itself can be an adventure.
A MK's life is laced with moving, good-byes: inconsistency. We all know that. Like most MK's my heart craves consistency. As trivial as it is, one of my top bucket-list items (following "Safari in Africa", "Hot air balloon ride" and "Visit all 50 States") is "Have 'the usual' at a local coffee shop". It sounds warm and inviting, like out of a movie and it means one thing- that I had lived there long enough for the usual to be developed. It is to be seen, be heard and be recognized.
This is my 3rd year here at college and the time has slipped by faster then ever. And quickly I am aware of what a life I have set up here. The lady at Einstein's even knows my name! But surprisingly, more and more my heart becomes restless and much to my disbelief I looked at my roommate last night and said "I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to start over". I began to think about all the people I would leave behind and what I would miss out on so I wondered why I felt this way.
My conclusion was this: I'm scared to stay.
I'm scared because it is rare for me to reach this stage. This next step of living in tight community where you have been vulnerable and know- I mean really know- each other and it is time to push deeper. I do vulnerable well. I do "get to know each others life story" well. And that is where it ends. These people have seen me at my best and my worst, they know what I could be and they know what I am.
And when I do not feel like I am enough I wish to move onward so I can meet new people who don't know better.
There is commitment required in staying and though I'm known as the loyal friend to many, I feel too weak to stay. I know that moving, transitions, making new friends- all of it- is extremely hard...because I have done it time and time again. But right now that sounds fun and adventurous and quiet frankly, there is a whole lot to hide behind.
Maybe my heart just needs adventure and the only cure lies in the seats of an airplane.
But for now, I'm staying. Because that in itself can be an adventure.
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