An End of an Era

Today I've struggled to find the right words. I'm in the process of writing a most important letter, the likes of which I cannot turn back from once written and sent. In a way, it feels like the most significant piece of paper I'll mail in my life thus far. It has to do with new beginnings and uncharted roads ahead and releasing and opening my arms wide to whatever God will bring to me (and what He'll bring me to, as well, I suppose).

Given the circumstances I've walked through over the past three months, this is the next necessary step to finish the journey I've been on and embrace what is to come. Still, I felt the words escape me where they typically remain. How do you succinctly tell people your whole life is changing while expressing tremendous gratitude to them all at once? If you know, please tell me. I'm all ears.

This is the task at hand for me this week. I'd hoped I would finish it today, but I'm left with a complete, yet utterly incomplete first draft. Part of me desperately longs to settle it and mail it; the other part of me wishes never to send it at all. The latter has something to do with stepping out in faith in the loveliest way I've yet to do so -- leaving the 'nest' if you will. It's terrifyingly lovely.

And, what's sweet about today and writing this letter is this: in route to a coffee shop where I'd write said letter, I made a pit stop at the Post Office to send a card and pick up my mail. In the process I retrieved an unexpected letter from one of the very people to whom I'll send my news. It's as if the Lord was saying, "Hey, this isn't an ending... They'll still be with you." I felt grateful.

So perhaps I should think of this not as an ending, but as a beginning. A beginning of a new era --  a place to invite people to join me in which simply looks a little different than the other spot. Whatever is to come, I have a strong sense in which it will be more than I ever hoped for and likely harder in ways I could not understand before arriving there. Such is life, after all. But, I thank God I know Him better now. I thank Him for that everyday because whatever is ahead, He's already there ready to greet me. That's good news for my heart today as I press in and try to finish this little letter...

Taxes & Twitter

I had a tender moment on Twitter last night.  I made a little 'office' space out of two storage bins stacked on top of the other and sat in my lovely dark leather chair which has been with me since Colorado... This set-up was much more comfortable than the kitchen table we're hoping to send to a new home soon. Trust me. So there I was detailing my mileage log in preparation to meet with an accountant today and tears came. I took a second away from my spreadsheet and wrote:

It's remarkable how the simple act of working on 2013 taxes brings up each hardship of the past year. Thankful to wrap it up fully.

The feeling was strange. I was executing this mundane task over hours and hours while reliving some of the most poignant, painful and eye-opening moments of this past year. Not quite sure how to feel, I let the tears come and told the Lord about them. Whew. 2013. You were a toughy. 

There are so many things I've said and thought and felt about the very moments I recorded for the sake of another tax deduction, but now, on this side of it, I'm simply amazed by the quantity of the yuck. Again.

I knew it was bad. If you've read anything I've written here this past year, you probably did, too. It was bad. 

One thing hit me late in the evening though. Perhaps it was delirium from sitting in 30 different positions on that chair and staring at those numbers and the printout and wondering if I missed anything, but I had another moment of clarity:  it was bad, but it has led me into so much good. Without it, I would not be where I am today and I actually feel like it's worth it somehow. I think I've said that before, but after detailing those days and the drive from one awful conversation to the next one, I needed to be reminded. 

It's like I could see why I have made the decisions I've made in the last few months. They make so much sense. I feel proud of myself for listening. Though, I wish I would have allowed myself to leap sooner. I could have been spared a bit of the pain, I think if I had. Hindsight.  

And I want to wrap it up, but I have a feeling I'll be revisiting many of those moments again as I write these books that are on the horizon. Part of me doesn't know how to do that as I consider it. It's still fresh in many ways and I worry about how to honor people while telling my truth. For now though, I think I'll leave it there. Taxes done. Refunds (yes, you read that correctly: refunds!) on the way. All in all, not a bad day.

My Longing

I felt like I returned to a land I lost. A place I once lived with hope high while brokenness drained away down river. The river rolled over my cheeks flowing off of me. While I well, I embraced the new creation. Catching glimpses of the me I was meant to be -- and as the layers were peeled ever so delicately backward, I saw more clearly. Hope flooded my heart with new possibilities. But unknowingly, I entered an almost darker time than before.

Thankfully He stood there to greet me in the midst of it and I knew Him better here. Soot from the past turned white pants to black. He was speaking the ash off of me. But I'd have to climb through the garbage heap to arrive at a new destination, leaving the stain on my back behind. Even as I climbed I thought I'd remain there... I never understood leaving as the point of the picture.

Until now.

Tonight it registered... I bid farewell to what it had become, not what it meant to me at the beginning. And as we sang songs in my sleepy hamlet, windows wide encouraging the succulent breeze of springtime to lavish us with life, I remembered the thing I loved. Here I was low, against the wall, inviting my voice to hold steady the lyric while tears rushed out once again.

This. This is what it used to be. Simplicity and fervor and light. Fellowship and creativity and hope. Intimacy and longing and joy. And these words, they fail me now as the memory was captured in my feelings. But, I felt it. The same feeling which existed then was present now. How? What does it mean to return when I've relinquished my longing for the very space in time when this similar stirring delivered me into a landscape so grand that I physically held my breath? (I couldn't believe how lovely it was.)

But it was real for a few fleeting moments. It was real and true and good. And it mattered, regardless of what anyone may tell you otherwise. It mattered to me.

And I grieve it.

I wonder about tonight though. My curiosity peaked as I encountered the familiar feeling. His presence evident in a small thing, that thing. He reminds me not to despise small beginnings.

Perhaps this is a foreshadowing of things to come. By design, my deepest hopes for what once was are now enveloped in what is to be in the not so distant future. What a beautiful thought which becomes my prayer. And maybe, just maybe, this particular story hasn't reached it's own potential yet.