Skydiving

I walked into one of my boss' office today and the first thing out of his mouth was "so I think your ex got a tattoo..." My heart sank and I got really quiet, which for me, is rare. He kept talking, clicking on Facebook pictures as he went along, oblivious to my discomfort. He came upon the picture he was talking about and it turned out to be just a fake tattoo from Halloween, or some such. On the way to that photo though, we ran across a few others. It was a sort of torture I couldn't escape. How do you tell your boss you would rather be stabbed in the face than look at pictures of your ex? How do you tell him that everyday you work really hard to NOT think about him? You don't. You just grin and bear it as though everything is fine. Thanks, ass.

I retained as much composure as I could and got the hell out of there. Luckily it was on the way out the door, so I could feign needing to get home to walk my cat.



Before I booked it out of his office though, a small miracle happened.

I took a breath, let it out and somewhere in the recesses of my mind, a few connections were made. I thought about who I was, who I used to be and who I was working to become. The pain and humiliation started to take a back seat as the last few weeks, months and days came back into focus and some of the chances I have taken.



I went skydiving this weekend. Thats right, I jumped out of a plane at 10,000 feet. I sucked in a breath, bravely hobbled to the front door, approached my destiny with a face like flint... then panicked as I got to the edge and then heard my tandem instructor yell "ready or not!" and push me out the door without my permission. It took me a full ten seconds to catch enough air to scream.



But I did it. Fuck yeah. I may have needed the push, but I got my ass up there and I did it. And the best part? As I was driving home with my friend (who had also jumped with me), as clear as day, a feeling that was true, real and honest welled up: confidence. I had done it. I had chosen to live, to take a chance, to take a risk, to feel the air as it rushed past, to look a fear in the face and beat the hell out of it. I didn't give in. Even better? I did it on my own. There was no one waiting for me at the bottom, no one patting me on the back, no one that cared other than me. I did it without him, without them, without anyone.



In the last few months I have adopted two kids from Africa, volunteered with IJM (and subsequently got to meet the Fray), listened to one of the most brilliant minds of theology NT Wright give a lecture to a group of 100 people (which is a small crowd for him), started a non-profit division of my company, swam in a public fountain in San Francisco, signed up to run a marathon, signed up for speed dating, learned how to bake, started a financial seminar to become debt free in under a year, sold or given away half of my clothing, stopped shopping, have signed my car up to be sold (this takes a while mind you), finally met the real Jesus, learned how to put people at a distance that aren't good for me, conquered the wounds of friendships and a myriad more of things.

Some of them are internal, some of them are external and some of them are just the beginning. Why is any of this important? Because healing from the past, for me, looks a lot like looking forward to the future. I have spent 27 years being what I thought people wanted me to be, what I thought I should be, I have loved in vain, wasted time, affection, loyalty, been fooled, swindled, stolen from, given away too much, taken too little and no way shape or form did I ever take into account the one thing that should have been considered the most, the value God places in me.

I never knew the purpose of life was to live. As I walked out of my boss' office, it was easier to give up bitterness, to walk past the pain because for once, the future is full of possibilities. Not just to fall in love, but for me. I fear everyday it's too late, that when I should have been starting out, the way I am now, I was distracted by trying to find and keep love. Instead, I'm doing it a few years later than the rest of the world, but that fear has to be the same one I faced getting on the plane. You know it's there, but fuck it. It's only half the story. I have to believe I can still bring something to this life. I know, deep down, redemption just isn't about living for eternity, it's about living now. I want to find the ceiling and break through. I'm not going to stop, to finish until I am the woman I want to be, until I leave a mark, until I have wrestled the world to the ground and NOTHING feels impossible for me. Isn't that what Scripture says is true? Nothing is impossible.... even jumping out of a plane.

I hurt. I hurt everyday. That pain, like the fear, is constant, but parallel to it, growing in momentum, is the burning to desire to do something. Anything. I won't let these things be the last of me. My story will be unique if only because from a quiet suburban life, from an inconspicuous beginning, I know He will do something great through me. My heart and soul hunger for His truth, His reality, His life, full of adventure, passion, conviction and compassion.

I want to love without reserve again, trust with hope, touch a million people with hands that have touched the face of God. I want to help set people free as I am set free in a hope that is deeper, more active, dynamic, strong and moving. We are not dead yet, and we will never be, so why do we act as if we are? So much is possible. The world can change, we can change it. As I jumped from a plane, the rush of air cleared away the cobwebs of confusion and clear as day, I realized, if I can, in under an hour, jump from 10,000 feet and live, there is so much to accomplish.

I have been a reluctant convert to living life. I wanted to settle down and spend Saturday nights curled up with the love of my life, but that isn't an option. And still, I have yet to feel like it was a fair trade off for how much it hurt, but I know one thing for sure, I never would have done the things I have done while under the shelter of someone else. I would have settled and never even felt the need to reach for more.

So now, I reach the edge of the door again and turn around knowing I will never have the real courage, looking back at my Savior/tandem and ask Him for a good shove. He gives me a wicked grin and says "I thought you'd never ask..."