This post. It’s been coming for a long time. I’m not sure I can get it all out, eloquently, but it is what it is.
For weeks, I had Caedmon’s Call’s song, “High Countries”
rolling around in my head. So much so, in
fact, that I picked up C.S. Lewis’, “The Great Divorce” and re-read it some
dozen years after it first crossed my path.
And the theme that just kept playing, over and over again, was a
question. “What are you holding onto?” And maybe more accurately, “What hell are you
clinging to at the expense of heaven?”
Ouch.
It’s not so easy for me to get “comfortable” with my
surroundings, and I think that what I’ve learned about myself over the past
couple of years is that if I do get
comfortable, I dig my heels in. And I’m
not going to go around lamenting everything that’s happened in that time frame
or living with regrets. The truth is, I should have dug my heels in when I did. But maybe I’ve let them drag for a little too
long at this point. I’m human.
A stark reality hit me the other day, and I almost hate to
admit it, but here goes nothing. I’m comfortable here, but I don’t love this place. This is how I know…
Let’s take a little trip back in time – oh, say, 2002-2003
or so. I loved where I was then. I was committed to ministry. I was committed to my community. I was committed to ministry in my community! Oh to re-capture the early twenty-something,
girl on fire, taking the world by storm mentality! But this is the more important thing - I
would take walks on a regular basis and pray for the people who lived in the
houses I was passing, even though I didn’t know them… even if I never saw a
result. I don’t think I have ever done that here, and I’ve lived here
more than three times as long.
I’ve had a tendency to wax philosophical in mid-late July
these past few years. I think that
maybe, just maybe, it’s the never-ending circus music or the smell of funnel
cakes that causes this. They repulse
me. And I know… I know… I just lost half
of my Facebook friend list, but stay with me.
I was not made for Circus City, U.S.A.
I know that now.
Miah and I took a walk downtown the other morning. We walked through the blocked off streets,
quiet with fair rides and deep fried food that wouldn’t be available for hours. For a variety of reasons, we took this walk when no one was there... when it was empty:
And I asked myself questions. “Why don’t you love this place, Lisa?” It’s been “home” for almost six years. “Would you feel differently about this place
if you grew up here?” Maybe. “Wait – why would you want your kids to grow up here, then?”
Life has always been more than bread and circuses for
me. I’m not satisfied with inconsequential
means of appeasement. I’ve been told
that I’m never satisfied, and it’s
probably true. You cannot distract me by
meeting my immediate, superficial requirements.
I don’t pacify. And if you think,
for one moment, that this is an easy life to live; think again. The easy life is the one consumed with the
ride. And the truth is - you can’t reach
those people. They’re not ready. They might never be ready. Please don’t misunderstand. Rides can be fun… for awhile. But over the course of a lifetime? I’d rather take a journey.
Now, if you want to hear an honest to the core confession, I
don’t want to walk away from the memories here.
I start to tear up if I think about it for very long. But I think I need to let go now. I don’t
want this place to define me. I don’t
want to embody this theme. I don’t want
to “fall to pieces” over something shallow when I could have something
solid. And it’s harder than I think.
Next week I’m going to have the opportunity to spend an
extended amount of time in a place where my life was shaped, formed, and
changed forever. I need that. I’m really not looking for a “do over”, but a
fresh start would be nice.
It’s been a good ride:
L.
May All Your Days... Be More Than This:
