Last night in my dreams I wandered around some beautiful, unknown country. I spotted an old building, adorned with history and personality and lush green vines. I snapped a picture.
I didn’t know anyone. I wasn’t sure where I was. I was filled with joy.
I woke up with that old disappointment. That buried ache.
I walked my dog around my apartment complex, ignoring the cool breeze and everything else around me.
I came back inside, brewed some coffee, sat on my couch and sulked.
I allowed that feeling to brood.
What was I doing here?
I stared out the window, and tried to count my blessings.
The very idea felt painful.
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Does anyone else have mornings like this?
Where you can’t stop questioning your life?
Where you live in the thrill of the past, remembering the excitement and forgetting the cost?
Where you just want a change, now, no matter what that change looks like?
It is good to move forward, good to seek out new horizons,
But the same wanderlust that drives you to seek out adventure can also be mental torture.
A few years ago, I was absolutely convinced I would not live in America for any long period of time.
In fact, after visiting most major cities and every state (besides Alaska and Hawaii) living on a bus, I was done with this country. It no longer held a thrill. I was a missionary and that meant giving everything up and moving to a foreign country.
After some failed relationships and major heartbreak, I needed to do it.
For God. For me.
“It is just who I am,”I thought.
And it became my identity.
Because the moments I was somewhere different were the moments I felt truly alive.
I never stopped to think,
Maybe I am just running away.
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I got my cup of coffee, and half a banana chocolate chip muffin. I sat on the couch. Wrote a few difficult, honest thoughts in my neglected journal:
How do you know when you are going after your dreams, or just chasing after the next high, the next pot at the end of the rainbow?
At times that panicky, choking feeling comes up. I can’t handle watching certain movies or even following certain nomadic people on facebook because I compare, I get jealous, and I start to question my life.
I wonder if I made the wrong decisions.
I wonder if now I am stuck.
I stop writing. I need to get out of my head. I need truth.
I slowly read a few words in my dog-eaten bible,
When a woman gives birth to a baby, she has pain, because her time has come. But when the baby is born, she forgets the pain because she is so happy that a child has been born into the world. It is the same with you. Now you are sad, but I will see you again and you will be happy, and no one will take away your joy.
I breathe in.
Close my eyes.
And breathe out an instant of joy.
That day is now.
Now is an adventure.
Now is love.
Now is everything I’ve been looking for.
I don’t need to run away.
The places will come. Traveling will happen. The world is open, mine to see.
Just because I am physically in one place, doesn’t mean I am not on a journey.
What matters is the here and now.
What matters is relationships.
With my God and with those closest to me.
That is the real adventure.
That is life.
(And I’ll keep repeating these truths until I finally believe them.)
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