The Great Unknown.
I want to live a life of adventure.
Not little adventures interspersed between stability, but an unyielding pursuit of the unknown, for the unknown is often where we step outside our comfort zone and grow.
However recently, with too many life constants failing around me, I came to realize I yearn something more than a life of adventure. I was forced into the unknown over night, feeling as if I was having to press the reset button of life back to what felt like a blank space. And had I deeply desired adventure as my life motivation, I should have welcomed such a reset. Had I desired adventure, I would have dived into the next Great Unknown. But that hasn't happened because I realized I have a greater need for authenticity than an adventure.
Despite my occasional thoughts that it would be easier to ignore life stress and only be optimistic for what lies ahead, I would be doing myself a disservice to ignore my losses and brokenness in present day. To ignore such hurt is putting on a mask of having it all together when I don't. It's a mask I've donned before to avoid awkward conversations with those who don't know how to comfort deep pain. I've put it on to gain acceptance. I've worn the mask to convince myself that I was peaceful and strong, like good Christian women "should be." I put on the mask to seek out the next adventure while hiding from my reality. My mask only covered, not cured the pain.
I can't walk down that road again. I want adventure, badly, to the point that it's a constant mind battle to charge forward into a new season full of potential, or sit and reflect on the heart break of my current life season. Yet in the end, I know the lies and false self that would come from path number one. Because I've been there far too often after failing to sit and rest and know. God calls me to "Be still and know that I am God," so that's been my goal. So what have I learned? Or I should say, what am I still learning?
1. Heart-break hurts like hell, and rightly so. Hearts aren't meant to be borrowed, as God created us to enjoy and thrive in a love that endures all things (1 Corth 13:7, an all time favorite), just as God unconditionally loves His bride. Throughout this grief of a lost and unrequited love, I've realized that my sorrow is healthy and good, as it points back to the beauty of my God's undying love and how it's suppose to play out.
2. Life, especially romance, plays out in imperfection. I've learned that the perfect person for me isn't perfect. Every man that I have or will date - for 1 week or 15 months - is a sinner. And so am I. My search for a husband isn't a pursuit of perfection, but a mutually flawed pursuit of Jesus. I made mistakes. He made mistakes. And both me and my future beloved will also walk down that path. Yet in the midst of debating if "he is the one" or if our differences are "compatible", I instead want to focus more on the marvelous privilege it is to live out the Love God has given me. Ingesting and recycling God's love is a choice I choose to walk forward into.
3. Graditude arrives when everything else leaves. In a couple weeks' span, my car broke twice, my computer broke, my body struggled to heal the poison ivy/oak I mysteriously had, and my heart broke. I've experienced deeper valleys, so I believed I could again climb out. But in those weeks of loss, I felt as if I was clinging to the pit's edge with bare fingertips. And in that moment of desperation, I felt overwhelmingly thankful that I wasn't alone. Friends were supportive from all sides and angles - from holding me when I couldn't breathe... to allowing me to borrow a car or computer... to giving words of encouragement that brought tears of joy and relief.
A prime example occurred just seconds ago as a dear friend sent the following quote as a reminder of my worth and beauty: "If he wanted to leave, then let him leave. You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love." (Warsan Shire)
Not only friends, but Jesus too understood how hard life can be, which gives so much comfort. There is joy in knowing that my God sent His son to die and rise again, so that death and darkness and hopelessness could be defeated. And my current sufferings - as I walk with Jesus - unite me to that victory. The hope I have in Him allows all of my pain and sorrow to have an expiration date and to be redeemed and repurposed. I don't know when that date will be, but His love and the hope that He desires me to live a victorious, adventurous life spurs me on through the valley.... up the mountain side.... and (in due time) into the next Great Unknown :)
