For some time now, I’ve known that change is coming. I’ve been told in prayer, in conference talks, in myriad different ways that life is going to change, yet – once again – I was standing without any defining details or factual flares to light my path. Then, in the course of a week, the Lord made it plain that the change was much closer than I’d thought. And it involved dating. Potential emotional connections. And wandering far, far outside my comfort zone.
So, out of habit and panic, I’m fighting it. But I’m kicking fog, trying to land a punch on something solid, concrete, a definite that is still far beyond my horizon. I know I’m being petty, bratty, petulant. The fact is, I’m tired.
I am tired of being always expected required to change. How much dross can one person burn away before the teeny drop of precious metal is extracted, let alone refined? I don’t feel refined. I’m feeling stretched, torn, pummeled and I’m worried that I’ll lose my pliability and one day just snap into nothingness. That I won’t be able to survive the constant changes demanded encouraged of me.
Actually, I’m not tired. Truth is, I don’t want to change. I don’t want to hurt, or be scared ever, ever again. I’m feeling like I’ve been told I’m going on a trip. But I know none of the details. Where to get the tickets, what visas I need, when the flight leaves, do I need any shots? How do I prepare for something I know nothing about?
I don’t know. I know that I will settle down inside my own head, eventually, and do what I need to do. It’s a coping process I’ve used over the past two years of separation and divorce. I’ve been told – and know – I just need to make sure I’m in a place within myself that I can hear, recognise and act on any promptings from the Holy Ghost, and just go from there.
But “there” means ripping myself open, and letting the air, sunshine and thunderstorms in. It means letting go, yet again, of my safe hopes, my pretend dreams and tiny, tentative plans and jumping off the abyss into the foggy unknown. Jumping means tangled parachute cords, and rocky outcroppings, of having no balance or knowledge of where the ground waits to kiss me hello.
How do I prepare for the promise of falling up into daylight?
Does potential happiness scare you? What struggles have you had to accept promptings or revelation? How do you prepare for change?
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