Day 14 | Caught in a Story
I have pushed it away for months, so today it felt foreign.
It all was right: the usual suspects and familiar corners, new places to explore, and a welcoming sense of home. I look out the front window at the lamp post in the snow and half expect Mr. Tumnus to be holding an umbrella for Lucy.
Half of me wants to run from it— I emailed a lady in the Canary Islands today and applied to work at a bed and breakfast from June until October. A series of minutes later, I was doing the same in Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, and the Philippines. I brainstorm photography projects in Ukraine, plot out passport stamps in South America, and scribble idealist essays into my notebooks. The pages fill, and so does my external hard drive. It is a dangerous way to live when paper is far from scarce and the words flow faster than my ink.
My mind repeats like a broken record: Decide. Decide. Decide.
I walked out of Lindy's house, and Mr. Hart was on a ladder hanging Christmas lights, the snow was falling, and my brother was waiting to pick me up.
Yesterday, Reagan National and I waited together watching five flights fill. Answering the question about where I live has been nothing short of creatively condensing thousands of stories that end, "My best friend is a flight attendant for United Airlines."
Tonight, I found old GoPro footage and photos when I attempted to make a video short of Steve and me shoveling snow only to find it full.
Thinking of it now, I do not know why this Advent has taken me so much by surprise. The past three years have been nothing but surprising and full stories I could not write.
In 2013 my heart told me to stay, but the Lord told me to go. He would bring me back, He promised, and though painful, I had no doubt.
Perhaps this waiting should not be so surprising but rather expected. We expect to wait, knowing this story is far from complete yet so full of hope.
The waiting is constant, yet the joy has returned. I think I just needed to be reminded that being caught in the Lord's story is the greatest freedom that I shall ever know.