I am writing because I have to. There are some things in life that are sort of necessary to functioning, and if you don't practice the discipline then the functions of your core just seem to fade. What's ironic about knowing that I need to write more, is that I'm here right now: writing again. I brought my lap top, and Gracie to bed the other night and just wrote for a good long while about everything going on in my life, around me, my thoughts, my car rides, etc... and then blogger FAILED and didn't save my draft before I went to post it.
So these thoughts are sort of recycled. But don't worry, I don't think that they will feel used when you read them.
I've been thinking about a lot of different things, but for the most part I have this one thought everyday day about one particular place: The Airport.
For those of you that are not familiar with the location of my job, I work in Roanoke and to get off the exit you pass the off ramp towards the little small airport. I have frequented this airport. I have parked my car there days and days at a time. I have been dropped off, picked up, and even stranded there for hours as my flights have been delayed and/or cancelled. I know that there is nothing worth purchasing there for snacks. I know also that the advertisement for Roanoke Mountains in baggage claim proudly features a picture of my friend Patrick who was hired as a model for the shoot.
I have had a wild love affair with airports. I have loved them. I like the movement of transit. I like having to coordinate, "do I have enough time to go to the bathroom, get to currency exchange, and get Starbucks before I have to board my flight?". I like people watching and every so often people talking. I like looking at the magazines and deciding which ones I will purchase to keep my attention for my flight. In the air, I feel the comfort in confinement, which is interesting because I love wide open spaces. The energy and motion of moving from one place to another, waking up in one place and falling asleep across the country, or world... I love.
I hear flights preparing to land sometimes from inside the store. It's a familiar view, when you fly in from Charlotte you fly over Target and the mall, and then land. I've done their approach often. There are random times when I am leaving work or heading in that I will look up to follow in sight what I hear coming or going. There is usually a split second that I wonder, "if I were on that flight, where would I going or returning from?".
What follows this question is the most surprising answer. I don't know, because there is no where else I need, want, or desire to be.
Friends. A victory round of clapping should follow that statement.
For every place that I've ever been, and for every place I've ever touched I know that there are a few things for absolute certain. I am grounded. I am here. I am in the now. Even in the midst of still emotional confusion, and general exhaustion: I am happy. Truly. And deeply.
And just because I'm not gallivanting around the world, or heading off to see random sights- does not mean my wings have been clipped. I think finally, I am rested and restored that I can be here and still be a dreamer, and I can still fly. I'm just flying in the way that I most sought and desired but could not capture before.
The Lord has completely rested, restored, and renewed my heart in this capacity.
It's amazing. So I as I prepare in my head my shopping list, and house chores for the Thanksgiving Holiday next week which I am hosting... I am thinking about flight. The movement and the race I've run. How I have turned the corner. How I have been changed and molded by where I've been--- how all of those places have come home. And every last lesson I learned but was not yet ready to embrace into action, has started to return to the surface. I am remembering the beauty I knew in Italy, the independence I felt in Hong Kong, the need for community I knew in Paris, the Grace of God in Santorini, the desire for childlike joy and wonder in China... I could list on and on.
I'm back in the atmosphere.
The wings of fear are clipped, and in their place are the wings that can rest while situated firmly on the ground, while still... soaring.
This morning I walked out of Target. It's a rainy, misty, cold, and cloudy day. I could hear a flight approaching to land, but when I looked up it was hidden in the density of the sky. I smiled. And shook my head. I paused. Thanked the Lord for the ways He brought me home again, and again safely... and how so many of those times I felt like a girl trying to navigate life through clouds and fog which I could not see through or break free. But He knew the way. He knew the plan. When I was finally, finally, finally able to let my hands extend out from my body, and stretch out my arms- did I return. I went around the world. Twice. I have thousands of pictures to document the journey.
I finally see it. I finally hear it. I can finally touch it. Finally.
It was worth every moment, every doubt, every question- to know this for sure now: soaring does not mean I have to go out and find it everywhere else. I just need to jump into my life, and trust that God will bring me back through all the turmoil and turbulence reflecting more of Him than when I began.
I love you.
Thanks for praying- for the past couple of years as I've pursued this truth.
