Torn down the middle
I wanted to thank all of you who have sent me well-wishes for this new season in my life – either via blog comments, or emails, or Facebook messages, or phone calls, or… I don’t know, there are so many modes of communication flying around these days, it’s ridiculous. Regardless of how the message was sent, know how appreciative I am. Truly. I am blown away to have such amazing, supportive, insightful friends.
Many of you have asked the question, “How does it feel, now that you’re there?” I think I’m feeling everything at once.
Excited / Terrified
Encouraged / Discouraged
Joyful / Doubtful
Confident / Certifiably insane
I have already cried a couple of times, simply from feeling like, “What am I doing? Who do I think I am, moving to Nashville? What am I supposed to do with myself?” Everything is overwhelming and confusing and completely unsettled. God bless Grant (AKA “the man that I live with”) for offering me his guest room until I get my feet underneath me. Without his generosity, I would be picking out a nice, cozy corner beneath the Gateway Bridge.
When I’m honest, I admit that I want everything to just happen, to just appear. Can’t there be a parade, celebrating my arrival? With troops of rich employers to offer me lucrative jobs, and generous landlords to present homes without mold in the kitchen or crime next door? I really want things to be easy.
But, of course, I know that things will not be easy. And no one is going to do the hard work for me.
Today, I read, “Remind me of how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered – how fleeting my life is. You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand. My entire lifetime is just a moment to you; at best, each of us is but a breath.” (Psalm 39:4-5)
This is a call to be here now, to be in this moment, and to squeeze every ounce of life out of each day that we have. My life is no longer than the width of my hand – and no one is going to live my life for me, so I need to do it.
I must LIVE.
And that’s reason enough to be here – through the uncertainty and the tears and the inevitable loneliness and disappointment. This is my life, and no one else can live it for me.
In the meantime, here’s hoping for extra-wide hands.