I have always had this innate inertia pushing me along. As if there was a rope tied around my waist, dragging me along just a step faster than I can move. Tripping and stumbling, I have allowed it to pull me, at times relying on the rope itself for balance and strength, other times wondering who or what was responsible for the tugging and struggling against the forces of my nature. It has been a journey of laughing with the ups and struggling against the downs, knowing all the while I had chosen to be pulled, but fearing what the rope really means.
At times the rope looked like questioning, doubting frustrations and a deep need to understand. Other times it has been hope, promise and adventure. And yet again it has appeared as mistakes, rescue and second chances. As I have been guided and challenged by the rope, that has been such a source of frustration and pleasure, I have found myself in places ranging from deep darkness to standing on bridges of unparalleled beauty. In those dark places cursing the nature of the rope and others hesitantly thankful for the strong tug to never settle.
At this moment, that rope, that incessant need to move, to understand, to fight against... anything and everything, feels a sort of noose and lifeline in one. Having lead me to a precipice, deep cavern in front of me, the rope stretches out into the distance, fading into empty space with no understanding of where it ends. I struggle to see the something familiar in the distance, but my feet keep slipping on the lose rocks threatening to send me hurling over before the rope has begun its pull again. Having not yet decided if I fully trust the rope, I lean back slightly, hesitating under the biggest unknown I have yet seen. "Uhh.... okay.... Not sure about this one."
Looking around restlessly as I wait for, what I am not sure of, reality dawns. This is what happens when home no longer looks like home. Like an old pair of shoes, comfortable and worn in, I loved my home, but out of a curiosity I began talking them off and trading them for other, new shoes. A new pair of Ferregamo's for nights out on the town, a new pair of Nike's for the gym. A pair of Ugg's for the snow, and sandals for the beach.
The more I wore different shoes chosen by the constant tug of the rope, the more I found the old ones didn't travel so well. The shoes I had grown up with didn't seem to travel well. And now, coming home again, I tried on those same pair of shoes, wearing them around for a few days only to find now they gave blisters, hurt my knees, and my feet had changed too much to fit them the same way they had before. I had gotten older, but the shoes had not.
When I first began to step out and follow the rope where it would lead, home was always a thought of safety and comfort. A place where I knew the patterns, the people and life was simple and comfortable. Summer nights and fall days held promise of a predictable life, if all else failed and the rope was too demanding, or I just couldn't accomplish what the rope wanted. Never phrased that way in my thought life, family and friends were as a good a reason as any to return to that which doesn't demand courage.
But as I return now and my shoes and old patterns no longer fit, a California sunset is no longer the best sunset in the world, and suburbia just doesn't hold the same luster it once did. So I find myself barefoot, struggling with the small amount of rope I have been given, slipping on rocks, unable to rely on the comfort of home to soothe my uncourageous heart. I search the horizon even harder for a glimpse of something familiar, something to trust in, something to reach for.
Instead, systematically, the Maker of the rope, has taken away every comfort I have known, every dream I thought I had, and every goal I was reaching for that left me with a sense of security and purpose. Every future I could imagine no longer exists and instead all I have is a list of "don't wants" with no comparative list of "wants."
The same rope that has lead me across continents and oceans, that has found ten's of thousands of dollars in education, lead me away from love, has lead me to love and now leads me to a new a amazing vision of a God I only dreamed existed. The catch is, now that rope is no longer a rope, but a thread that runs along my core in complete conflict with everything I have known. Unable to be satisfied now, having shed everything... I am an empty page with a story yet to be created, and that... that is the greatest fear of all. I have been given the next ten months... after that... no promises. In fact, really, no home.
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