I cried in my car today. I don’t cry. So that was my clue that I really needed to spend some time connecting with God.
I took a walk, specifically to pray about clarity and wisdom…to better align myself with His will for several different aspects of my life right now. I ended up in one of my favorite places near my house, a pretty cemetery, where I read headstones and then wept about brokenness. Needless to say, it escalated quickly.
I’ve been stewing over the concept of anticipation, something I don’t really like, even anticipation for good things. I don’t like the “will I ever” or the “I hope” games at all. I just don’t like the unknown, and I don’t like being vulnerable to it. As I read headstones, I thought about all these mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, wives and husbands buried near each other, and about how they lived a life of unknowing. Some were short and some were long, but still, these were lives full of just not knowing.
What started out as me seeking God’s will and asking for clarity ended up with me in the cemetery realizing that I don’t have to like the unknown, and I don’t have to like being vulnerable to it. But I’m part of something bigger, a bigger Story where I’m not going to get access to the spoilers. Apparently reading headstones helped clarify that for me (yeah, so maybe I’m a little emo?).
Maybe I don’t know if I’ll ever get to travel to Europe, buy a house, be a wife. But at least I know that I have a role in this Story. And sometimes I’ll have to be vulnerable, and I won’t like it. But at least I have Someone to remind me that there’s a Story, and there’s always another chapter.