I left NYC two weeks ago. The city that was once my playground, replete with adventure and opportunity, somehow became a cage. Months of unemployment coupled with mistakes and doubts cast dark shadows where sunshine had previously reigned, and I lost my perspective and direction somewhere in the recesses where the light grew too dim to see. So I did my best to own it, because I believe you have to, and I decided to come home.
It feels like failure and like courage; it is grief and also relief. All I know is that when I booked my one-way ticket to DFW, I felt like I could breathe for the first time in months. And when I got in the cab to go to LaGuardia, I felt like I was walking away from the only thing that ever made sense for me. I bought a magazine in the terminal, before boarding my plane. The woman who sold it to me asked if I was headed home. I didn’t know what to tell her, was I going to or leaving home? I still don’t know.
It’s in the midst of that paradox that I live today, two weeks later. I left ready to move on, and arrived feeling drawn back. It was agonizingly hard to come, but being here is frighteningly easy. So I remain in between, feeling certain of today and doubtful of tomorrow.
Ginger told me before I left that the more mature we are, the more willing we are to be misunderstood. I also think we become more willing to not understand. I don’t know what I’m doing here any more than I knew what I was doing in NYC a few weeks ago. I just know that this is my next step, my right move, my choice for today.
4 comments:
You blogged! Yay! Texas is good for something if it made you write. And, I REALLY liked this one.
I really like this. It's fragile and painful and makes me feel squirmy even reading it. I think you did a brave thing, and this is well written.
I can't believe it's only been 2 weeks! It feels like it's been much longer. Sounds like you're some what at peace being where you are. And, I like this writing too.
I miss you, and I'll always love you, dear Lauren. You're still in my prayers every day. What is your address so I can write you a letter?
I read Isaiah 4 this morning, and I think not just by coincidence.
Isaiah 4
1. In that day so few men will be left that seven women will fight for each man, saying, “Let us all marry you! We will provide our own food and clothing. Only let us take your name so we won’t be mocked as old maids.”
A Promise of Restoration
2. But in that day, the branch of the Lord
will be beautiful and glorious;
the fruit of the land will be the pride and glory
of all who survive in Israel.
3. All who remain in Zion
will be a holy people—
those who survive the destruction of Jerusalem
and are recorded among the living.
4. The Lord will wash the filth from beautiful Zion
and cleanse Jerusalem of its bloodstains
with the hot breath of fiery judgment.
5. Then the Lord will provide shade for Mount Zion
and all who assemble there.
He will provide a canopy of cloud during the day
and smoke and flaming fire at night,
covering the glorious land.
6. It will be a shelter from daytime heat
and a hiding place from storms and rain.
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