Grace

I’m thousands of feet off the ground stranded on a round rock about a foot and a half in diameter. It’s almost completely dark. I can hear waves below me, and I’m literally terrified of taking a step in any direction. I think there may be a narrow path somewhere, but I can’t make out where it is. And the fear of taking a step…in any direction is paralyzing.

This was how I pictured myself. And I felt with my entire being.

“Baby, you’re not stuck in some box with no options. You’re still young enough to change your mind and not be miserable. No one’s going to be mad at you.”

And this was my dad speaking truth into my confused state-giving me permission to release myself of all of the pressure and expectations that I thought were placed on me-that I had given myself. This was the beginning to the slow end of the version of myself I had created.

What do you do when you don’t want to do anything because nothing seems right? But you know staying put isn’t an option.

In that conversation, a teeny tiny light shone to a teeny tiny walkway off of the rock that I had stranded myself on. But the longer I looked, the more I thought, the harder I prayed, and eventually the truth hit me in the face like a fierce winter wind. This is grace. This is the answer to the questions I’ve cried out in prayer. This is the way out-but nothing about it is easy.

Why should it be easy?
If it was easy, how much value would I place in it?
And what kind of weak faith would that produce?

So I’ll tip-toe confidently until I’m able to run wildly.