Tuesday, August 26, 2014

ON this very moment.

I think it's sort of hilarious that I sneak over to this blog to write things down that are sitting in my heart. I understand branding and the business of being a business just a little too well and so I never want to cross those lines on the mustard seed co blog. I like to keep that shiny and polished and brand-centric (you know, that is, when I actually write over there).

But this little space is so safe. Anyone who still reads it knows that I pour out my heart here, that I'm honest almost to a fault. And may I also say I think it's hilarious how many readers I still have? I can see those stats, you guys, and it blows my mind that people continue to come here to read. Thus furthering my point about authenticity - when we just are who we are, people want more. When we present something that makes sense and flows really well and we look great on, it can be give or take. I've always thought that this blog would be the one to "take off", if you will, if I ever actually was consistent. Because being our true selves is, like, the freaking jam. It's where success lives. (Hey can someone remind me of this sometime? When I'm forgetting it? Great, thanks in advance.)

Every time I get back to my apartment from being home in NJ, I have to take a couple of days to shake back into my routine and life here. And every time I get back, I try to remind myself to be gentle with the transition. "Try" being the keyword. Coming back to the city means being slammed with the reminders that I have no idea where I will be living in a couple of months, and I mean that in regards to city, state, and apartment, including my current one. I'm slammed with the reminder of what I want and how far I often feel I'm from it (and how close). I'm slammed with the reminder of the people and animals who need help, who need others, with so many sitting on the ground around me. I'm slammed directly in all of my senses with all of the awesome and scary and loud and exciting things that make New York City what it is. I'm hit dead on with where I want to be, where I am, what I'm working toward, what I'm running from. And, of course, I'm kicked in the gut and in my heart with the missing human in my life. Still. Daily. Every blessed moment.

Re-reading all of that now it's easy for me to think "well of course all of that at once can make a girl a little wonky for a day or two". But in the moments of living it, I just want to be past it. I want to know the future, I want a clear freaking answer on if I should move and if that's down the street or across the country. I want guidance and a big giant sign that says I'll be fine financially, emotionally, physically, and in so many other ways.

But that giant sign is faith, right? That's what we do, right? We keep taking these steps forward despite the fact that we are wobbling around in darkness, completely unsure of what's in front of us, with feet and legs that can't seem to remember how to move, and a pounding heart. We keep going. And the difference here is that many just stop. They feel the power of fear and they just stop. Even if they are urged to move for the rest of their life, they won't. They stay frozen and cave to fear. But we get to choose faith. We get to say that it is bigger than that paralyzing fear. And so there I am again, on my knees, face pointed upward, sobbing and talking and asking and praying and wanting and trusting.

And while it doesn't sound so fun, or feel so good in the moment, it is the only thing keeping me moving forward. And that is some powerful shit. The days I cross my arms and stomp my feet and say no to God and no to praying and no to trusting are so much worse than any handful of minutes spent crying on my floor. The times I spend thrusting a hand over my eyes and refusing to look at God and demanding that I know best are so much freaking worse than the terrifying moments of taking a tiny step forward when I feel God call me to move. It is so much worse when I pretend that I'm in charge. I'm not in charge, and neither are you. It's all Him. I grant that this sounds insane and ridiculous and terrifying but damn if it isn't true. It's insane how insane it is, because it is TRUE. And terrifying. And glorious.

The other day, I was walking behind a family in central park. People not from New York tend to walk in a straight line so they can, like, actually see and hear each other (what is that about?) and so I literally was forced to walk behind them as I caught my breath from the run I'd just had. In between my wheezing, I heard one of them say something about how he didn't understand why people run. Another cracked a joke about New Yorkers needing to run so they can run away from their crazy lives. And I thought to myself how that's not it at all. How it's the opposite. That we are running, full steam ahead, with everything we've got, toward our lives. We are the brave ones running head on toward it. We are running toward the amazing things that are on their way. We are running with each tiny, terrifying step.

I don't have any answers still. I'm like a one-woman detective team with my quest for "signs" - a certain song will play and I'm convinced it means to move somewhere, I'll see a certain word and I'm convinced it means to make that call, and so on. I honestly have no idea what's coming next and God is drilling that so hard into my brain you'd think I would freaking accept it by now. Sometimes I think He's like "hey Kerry, I'm running out of ideas here on how to get you to see that you cannot control your life or know what's happening next. Can you do me a solid and just surrender to it? Cool, thanks!" But even with absolutely no answers, and even with all this pain and fear and wondering and growth, I have this faith. And He calls me to take a step. And to take another. And if I'm lucky, I do it. Slowly, steadily. Step.

And step. And step. And step. And step.

No comments:

Post a Comment