It almost brings tears to my eyes to even type that. Indeed, the chucks are being demoted to the back of the closet. In exchange? I look at these dastardly beauties that I haven't worn in so terribly long and I wonder what has gotten into me.
I'm going back to work... I'm going back to work...
I'm going back to work!
I know I shouldn't yell but I just can't seem to hold it in. I can't say exactly what's at the source of the noise in my heart, only that it bursts out in deafening blasts.
What I know is there's a lot of fear mingled in there:
Fear of not being available to my kids all day, every day...
Fear of not being able to remember how to do a job I haven't done in four years...
Fear of driving myself to insanity by taking on too much...
So, WHY?!
Somewhere under all this anxiety there also lies a current of anticipation. Somehow, without any understanding or clarity, there's a sense of the ground moving beneath my feet...that I'm expectantly stepping out of my comfort zone, away from my safety net, with a big smile on my face and butterflies in my stomach. The question is, what am I expecting?
That answer is nothing, and in that void of expectation lies all the joy I've ever known.
This is not mine to direct or lead or plan.
This is not mine.
I do have a job, I don't deny that. I do the work. I relearn all that I have forgotten (or at least thought I had). I smile. I converse. I commit my attention and my ability to the task in front of me.
But above all, I confirm that I have to strength to remain "me" outside of the sheltered life I have lived for the past four years.
It is in that I gratefully find my direction.
I was not looking for this...
I had all but given up on this part of me and I had thus far been successful in avoiding it.
Perhaps that's the exact reason it is the path I now walk.
Here I go...
Romans 8:15-16 (The Message)
