Monday, September 3, 2012

At Home

I am a homebody.  In fact, Favorite has to almost drag me on vacation if we're going to be gone for any extended period of time.  People the world over can't imagine why I wouldn't want to spend a week in Florida instead of my minuscule hometown, but it's mostly about my inability to abandon what I know and whatever sense of routine I've developed.

Oh, and I have really irrational fears.

When I was a kid, my parents spent a lot of time trying to convince me to stay the night with friends and family only to find themselves picking me up just a few hours after leaving me.  As soon as I would lay down, I would feel the walls close in around me and panic set in.  I can't explain why sleeping in a different place was such a big deal, but I can tell you that I occasionally have to talk myself through those same types of feelings (more than 25 years later!).

That said, I wouldn't say I calculate every decision carefully, but I rarely close my eyes and jump.  I'm too afraid of where I'll land...or if I'll land on my feet.

My lack of sleepovers and my need for routine should be hints that I rarely feel brave.  Or confident.  And I'm almost never positive that I've gotten it right.  Whatever "it" might be.

Subsequently, when God pushes or pulls me to a new place or in a new direction, I walk with trepidation.  I wait for the other shoe to drop.  I know there's a disaster waiting around the corner.  Oddly, I've had few experiences that reinforce this obviously irrational viewpoint, but there it is.  I tiptoe into the new.

Even when the new has been nothing short of exhilarating and fabulous.

Thankfully, that's where I find myself in the classroom.

I'm fairly confident I'm leaving a lot of gaps in my material.  I'm even more sure I'm not always capable of improving my students' understanding of writing or grammar.  (Or mine, for that matter.)  But I'm oddly comfortable with those truths.  Basically, I love what I'm doing.

And without any sort of push and pull on God's part, I doubt I would've navigated my irrational homebody self into a new career.  New?  Is sometimes a little too much for comfort.

I truly wonder if Abraham developed any stomach ulcers when he agreed to move to some unknown destination at God's request.  Or if Ruth was ever upset she agreed to serve a God who didn't allow her husband to live.  Or even if Peter spent more time telling everyone else that he was a whole lot better at catching fish.

I don't think it's wrong to fear, but I know that perfect love casts out fear.  I keep looking into an unsure future with a little bit of irrational fear; however, that fear coexists with my surety that God is good.  And that knowledge only came through the deepest season of mourning I have ever known.

Right now, I'm excited for the possibilities.  For the future.  For whatever movement changes the lay of the land.

As long as I can spend an adequate of time at home.

1 comment:

Rebecca Louise. said...

I don't think it's wrong that you fear going away. It's all about finding your niche and comfort.

I was the same when I was little. I HATED sleepover parties when I was little. I just worried that something would happen whilst I was gone. I remember the first time I went away from home and I was crying to whole plane ride.

Now I cannot wait to get away. I found the more that I did it the more it helped. But take baby steps!