Have you every really regretted a deal you made with someone you thought was a good idea, maybe even an "I'll show them" sort of thing? Yeah me either...
The next phone call I get from Chicago will be a decision on whether they want me to take an internship there or not. With Knoxville, Lexington, and Chicago, all as options floating in the air - I am finding it hard to sift through others opinions, logistics, and the actual call He has for me. I should have asked for a magic compass at Christmas instead of an eno.
I am blessed. SO BLESSED.
So don't get me wrong. I just want to do the best thing, the good thing, the thing that will build His Kingdom up. But I also want to do the selfish thing, the easy thing, the thing that will build me up... and that is where I am willing to be honest. I am scared of what could happen, where these opportunities could lead me, and that they might lead me further away from MY future. MY dreams. MY goals. Some days I am extremely confident I know the answer. I know the next right move. Then the next day I turn in the complete opposite direction. I need to close my mouth and open my ears. And know that no ones feelings will be hurt. And if they are, they truly weren't part of the fam to begin with.
See, I've had this little blue print in my back pocket for quite sometime now... staying in the mountains after the degree isn't sketched on it... neither is a foreign place like Illinois. Then again, South America wasn't traced out in the corners or worn out folds either. Yet, as much as I love this little blue print - I've gained some more tools - and as any good builder knows... measurements change... the soon to be homeowners like a different styled bathroom than they originally drew up... AND the pipes almost always burst. Flexibility. That is the word I just wrote in sharpie on that little piece of a dream.
Like that deal I made in Chipotle that altered the blue print the first time. I had to understand that this is the building of a foundation, framework... I can't put a roof on without those things. But first.
Flexibility.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Our 1
Just saw a message on my phone that meant a lot more than the few sentences seen on the screen. I couldn't cry though, not now at least. I've cried enough.
Tuesday will be a really hard day.
Fate. Decisions out of my control. A life with more potential than I can even describe. It's all gone.
At least that is what it feels like. I feel like I've been hooked up to donate blood but they forgot about me. I started out helping someone else - but now I am slowly dying - losing more blood than is healthy or the required amount.
Exhausted. Numb. And tear-less.
I gave all I could, and maybe it wasn't enough... maybe it was. Their resources. Her life. It's all smacking us in the face and kicking us in the gut.
Why?
I don't know the answer to that question. I've sat on a public school hallway floor confused, disappointed, and searching for the same answer to that question. I've driven around dimly lit streets in search for it. Laid on a small mattress in the basement looking deep into the eyes of one who I thought could give me the answer. I came up short every time. We all do.
Every day I look a pictures of days that were different. We were young. We had dreams. All that mattered was that we were together. In that basement our hands marked up the walls. We became a family. Still a family. Always a family. Just a lot older, more distance, and our cracks are now broken pieces shattered all over a tile floor. And no one knows how to put them back together.
The world consumed, trapped, and claimed her victim. I just pray that one day I can look at our boy with the same eyes I did when he danced in the parking lot that summer where face paint was more common than secrets in backpacks. Eyes that have changed perspective over time, but eyes that still love. Right now it's hard. Being away is hard. Being circumstantial fun is hard. Not knowing what it's like is hard.
I am a shepherd searching for her 1. The 1 out of the other 99 who is lost. Ready for him to come home to the family, but baring the truth that this shepherd, and the surrounding shepherds have to come home with just 99 some days.
Tuesday will be a really hard day.
Fate. Decisions out of my control. A life with more potential than I can even describe. It's all gone.
At least that is what it feels like. I feel like I've been hooked up to donate blood but they forgot about me. I started out helping someone else - but now I am slowly dying - losing more blood than is healthy or the required amount.
Exhausted. Numb. And tear-less.
I gave all I could, and maybe it wasn't enough... maybe it was. Their resources. Her life. It's all smacking us in the face and kicking us in the gut.
Why?
I don't know the answer to that question. I've sat on a public school hallway floor confused, disappointed, and searching for the same answer to that question. I've driven around dimly lit streets in search for it. Laid on a small mattress in the basement looking deep into the eyes of one who I thought could give me the answer. I came up short every time. We all do.
Every day I look a pictures of days that were different. We were young. We had dreams. All that mattered was that we were together. In that basement our hands marked up the walls. We became a family. Still a family. Always a family. Just a lot older, more distance, and our cracks are now broken pieces shattered all over a tile floor. And no one knows how to put them back together.
The world consumed, trapped, and claimed her victim. I just pray that one day I can look at our boy with the same eyes I did when he danced in the parking lot that summer where face paint was more common than secrets in backpacks. Eyes that have changed perspective over time, but eyes that still love. Right now it's hard. Being away is hard. Being circumstantial fun is hard. Not knowing what it's like is hard.
I am a shepherd searching for her 1. The 1 out of the other 99 who is lost. Ready for him to come home to the family, but baring the truth that this shepherd, and the surrounding shepherds have to come home with just 99 some days.
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