Atlanta to Birmingham

The last 36 hours have been nothing short of pure hell. And I still have more to come. Hour after hour in a stuffy airport terminal with bad service, bad food and bad chairs. Then, when all seemed lost, it got worse. I had to drive two hours (and spend $150) from Atlanta Georgia to Birmingham Alabama at 4 in the morning, after not sleeping at all, on half an Ambien, in a Ford Focus, on icy roads with someone I didn't know who made me drive. It took me two hours. I almost spun out twice and watched the odometer slowly tick down as I watched tree lined acre pass by. I was exhausted, angry, frustrated, fearful, hopeless... and determined.

I realized that once you get to a certain point, there is no turning back. You decide what has to be done, and you do it. No one is going to catch you if you don't. There is no safety net, no second option. It was go, or stay for an indeterminate amount of time at an airport I had already seen enough of. I had no idea where I was, how I would get to where I wanted to go, who would be there when I arrived, and even if it was worth it. But not trying was the worse option. There was nothing for me if I didn't move, but if I did, well, there was a reward so worth at the end of the tunnel. Getting to the man I love.

As I sit in Birmingham, waiting for my flight (8 hours later) I rewatched an old favorite. The Last Kiss. It's always hard for me to watch, but I remembered why I love it so much. Four of the character are best guy friends, each with their own issue, love, fears, immaturity, crisis. The main character pretty much encompasses them all and paints a pretty damn good picture of what it's like to act like a child, get burned for it, then let that burning turn you into an adult. He stares down the barrel of his life and sees the end, fearing the trap he knows he is entering. The final stage. The final act, as he sees it. He sees his life as a end rather than a beginning, so he finds his own cowardly escape, them realizes, what he thought was trapping him, was what he wanted all along. Go figure.

At one point, an older, wiser, flawed but realistic character says to him "It's not about love, you asshole. Anyone can love. That's about you. That's about the way you feel. No one cares about that. What matters is what you do." It's a profound statement. Needlessly unexplained. But what follows it is what really matters. After that he says "You want to know what to do? How to get it back, how to get her back? That's simple. You do whatever it takes. You do that, you don't give up, and you can't fail." Now that, that is much more profound.

Doing whatever it takes may look so different for so many people. For some, it looks like not seeing your life as a trap, but as choices you make. Realizing that nothing can trap you but you, but that choices, choosing to love, to stay, to fight, to struggle through, isn't an end, it's a beginning. For others, it's realizing that allowing every bump in the road, every flight cancelled, every argument, rejection, heartache, isn't an excuse to give up. No one wins then, and no one is successful. Then it's just about staying safe, fearing what isn't in the comfort zone. If there is nothing worth the desperate fight, there is nothing worth living for.

Growing up is a hard thing to do. It's gritty. It's unpredictable, it's uncomfortable and unfamiliar. It's risky and ugly. The movies portrays it as a man showing his fight through sitting on a doorstep for four days outside his love's house, refusing to move until conversation can begin. It's a desperate attempt, not a last ditch, but a signal of immobility. That takes a sort of vulnerability, a sort of acceptance of risk, then a rejection of any other than what is set in front of him. His choice to love. It's no longer a trap, no longer an end, but a beginning. A choice. Blowing past the barriers takes a sort of responsibility for actions, reactions, and results that takes a character only seen in adulthood, not childhood.

There is no one to blame when you make a choice. No one but yourself when, or if you give up, or you are rejected. That's a hard pill to swallow. But whether it's on a lonely road in Alabama, or on a doorstep in the rain, it's the same. No one to break your fall, no one to rescue you, no one to save you. Just you, yourself and the decisions you make.

3 Feet of Water

Some mountains never cease to be crossed.

Lately I seem to be finding myself drowning in a small pool of water. The warning signs reading "careful 3ft of water" laugh at me as I seem to not be able to gasp enough air at 5'6". Fresh cynicism reminds me I am far from the summit, or even the steps of the pool.

I have spent years immortalizing my struggle for deep connection with Jesus through keyboard and mouse (as opposed to pen and paper). And true to my hearts knowledge and instinct, the only thing that has ever truly satisfied me has been just what I thought it would be, Jesus and the good ol' Holy Spirit. I have begun to understand what it means when the old Psalmists would speak of "Your words are like water to parched land." When He does speak, it's like your soul is revealed to you in a whole new way. As though I have been floundering in the dark and a candle has been lit, revealing at least a small space. Answers given to better questions than I had ever asked before. As if He was saying "You don't need to know that. You need to know this." All of the sudden peace floods in and my response to truth, whatever it is that He is saying, is so powerful, my whole body floods with gratitude and every cell seems to scream "Yes!!!!! So Yes!!! To whatever! Yes!!!!"

Those moments fill my heart and mind with a sort of faith I can't explain. A sort of longing unmatched and a sort of loyalty that seems foolish and foul hardy. But while what my heart longs for and what my mind can justify seem to be at odds, my spirit makes up for lost acreage and seals the deal. I only want Him and only Him. And without Him, I am lost. Half what I want to be and a quarter of what I should be. Woefully close to an inadequacy that leaves me frustrated and hurting.

Every good gift He has given me, that defines me, that makes me me, that is a compilation that sets me apart, not good or bad, or less or more, but different and His, trips me up and sends me reeling to an unknown, or even known that is terrifying. Ambitious; what is in front of me commands my attention. Selfish; searching for a love source that leads me to Him, leads me astray. Just intelligent enough to get lost in the minutia, pragmatic enough to be pessimistic and fearful. Sensitive to a fault.

I need Him more than I know, and yet I know how much and it only drives me more crazy. His touch has seemed few and far between, leaving me panting in the dark hoping for any sort of bullet that will end my misery, taking out my frustration on anyone that is foolish enough to love and turning all who cross me into enemies of the state.

Then a storm hits. No, I mean literally. A storm hit and I couldn't get out of DC to CA where one of the few people that represents peace and hope exists. Awesome. No longer pragmatic, I think I have become a watch list member for Northwest/Delta. They came to replace any sense of loss of control, hurt anger, frustration or enmity that I have ever had in my life. And they paid dearly for it. Actually, I take that back. They listened painfully to it, but never paid anything, or even gave me what I wanted. I love business, but hate monopolies.

Sort here I sit, spinning my wheels, waiting in a terminal, for literally anything. His voice, His touch, His hope, a flight, an electronics outlet.... whatever. Anything at this point. What do I do in the meantime? Put my computer away to save battery, turn off my cell phone, watch the screen, pray and read my book.

And hope. For anything. Pragmatism be damned, the only thing that will save me is a heart attack... from a different sort that is. And nothing, no screaming, at airlines or the sky, will bring it any sooner. If I have learned anything in the last few years, its you can't control the weather, and you can't rush the Holy Spirit. And as much as it pains me, both have a purpose, and both don't answer to me.

This three feet of water is killing me, but I have to trust the swim Teacher knows what They are doing.

Unalone

One of the things I constantly forget is how unalone I really am.

On days I don't work, which is more often than not, I could go the whole day without speaking to another person (other than on the phone). I walk the streets of DC going here and there, Ipod playing, thinking about everything and nothing. I go to and from class, to and from the gym, to and from the store, barely making eye contact with others, avoiding awkward glances when you accidently catch someones eye.

Some days it makes me terribly lonely, others terribly free. It's an up and down roller-coaster, always leading me to wonder how I will wake up feeling the next day. What it always does though, is remind me of how on-my-own I really am. No one is responsible for me besides me. Once again freeing... yet lonely.

I remember when I went and met with my pastor a few months ago. We talked about deciding to get married again, and how scary that was for me. I kept telling him I didn't want to make the same mistake again. I didn't want to decide wrong. I didn't know if I was seeing things right. He told me not to worry, that he, as my pastor, help me. He would be looking out for me too. I cried. I cried for days. I still cry about it.

As I have ventured out and started a new position, dipping my toes into a world I had thought would only be a dream place, just above the glass ceiling, more and more I feel that familiar aching I have come to know so well. A tug of war I feel deep in the pit of my stomach, telling me there is a fear I am ignoring.

I had started this position not caring what happened. It came into my life by God's abrupt gifting, and by experience, you never know what can happen. But, as it would happen, the more I invest, the more I fall in love. It's a culture that seems to fit, one of the few places I have found a piece of home that has brought a small peace of home.

But this life, if I choose to pursue it, will not lead back to were I began this journey. It would most likely keep me here. Three thousand miles away from the family I love, the and future I want in the man I love. I have begun to feel stuck somewhere in Missouri. Half way between DC and San Francisco. Past and future exist in both, but neither feel completely right. Neither feel the complete package.

Feeling grumpy, frustrated, stuck, scared and alone all day, I sat down to Skype with the man that God has given me to be an example of His love everyday. I poured out my heart, haltingly, in between my bad attitude spawned by my struggles. Not knowing what I was hurting and fearing, I just talked. And talked, and talked... and talked... the way only someone who doesn't know where they are going can talk.

I told him my fears, my frustrations, my wants, this budding passion, desires that didn't lead to him geographically. I was scared talking to him, as though my new love for work was a disloyalty to him somehow. I repeated over and over again how I didn't know what to do, and what I wanted. As if I had to choose.

He gently and lovingly reminded me, I didn't. He wanted me. He wanted my best, our best, whatever God said it was. Whatever God gave us. He reminded me that I didn't have to make the decision on my own, but that he would make it with me. It would be a decision for us. I wasn't alone.

Then he said something that broke down my last fear. He said "Pray about it. We will pray about it. It's all we can do. Jesus loves you. He wants you to be happy. He will show you what that is."

Oohh... that's right. He loves me. He wants me to be happy. He WANTS me to be happy. He WANTS ME to be happy. I forgot.

It's not always about having to make the tough decision knowing it will always lead to loss. Sometimes it is a win/win situation. And maybe it won't be. But what is true, is that I won't be alone in it. It's not sole my decision, and if I make the wrong one, lead to my eminent destruction, along with everyone else I love. Just because I want it, doesn't make it automatically wrong. In fact, that just might, make it right.

I may walk the streets alone, go to bed alone, go to dinner alone, go to class alone, but I'm not alone. I am not the only one responsible for me. My Father is responsible for me as well. He has taken responsibility, as a Father, as a Lover, as a Friend, as a Companion, as a Guider. The best I can do is try and step into His flow. If it works, it works.

I am not responsible for everyone around me, nor am I a burden to everyone around me. And if the man I love decides to move his life for me, that's his right. It's his right to love me that much. And maybe I am his prize. Looking out for me, making decisions with me, letting me rely on him... It's a reminder how really unalone I am.