I was walking home from work today. It was crisp and the leaves have almost all fallen, with half the trees bare and the other half holding on for a little while longer. I wonder which one I am today. If I'm the leaf willing to dive deep into the next season, or if I'm the one holding on, not quite ready to let go just yet.
There's been something stirring up inside of me recently. It's the kind of stirring I can't put a finger on. It's exciting and uncomfortable all at the same time, and it's not seeming to want to go away anytime soon. I feel dreams and ideas and sentences that begin with "perhaps this..." bubbling to the surface and I know they'll soon overflow from me. And maybe it's the season. Maybe it's the realization that everything is always changing, that nothing is ever staying truly the same. Because even as fall settled in, winter has been coming closer each day. Fall was never really here to stay.
And maybe that's what I'm feeling too. That this season, this time, it's never really here to stay. And I've been fearful to test out these new things because I can't quite see past them yet, and it's always so much easier when we have a little bit more of the picture. That always feels a little more comforting. You all know how much I like having a decent grip of control.
But as I was walking home today, I tried to come to terms with something -- that this, right now, this is what I have been given. And maybe it's time to take a good leap across some waters that feel unsteady and not sure, and maybe as this season glides into the next it's time for my seasons to change too.
Honestly, maybe all this talk about inadequacy is making me realize that it's okay to hand all of this over to Jesus and ask him to make me a little more brave and little less of a control freak.
You see, if this year has taught me anything, it's that it's okay to take a risk. Perhaps it's more than okay, perhaps it's just real good.
I know it's hard when we're walking down a road and we can't quite see what's coming up next. I know it's hard to envision a massive leap because what happens if we fall? I know it's hard to give up the reins when we want security and safety and a secure plan B.
But it's a long walk home.
This photo from my beautiful friend, Myquillyn Smith (the Nester)
This is day twenty-nine. You can find the rest of this series right here.
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