the farther I ran, the harder it fell

I gotta tell you, this business of growing up? It ain't for sissies. And you can take that to the bank.

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One time I thought I could change my own life. I thought it was "time." Actually, I thought there were lots of "times." I would've initiated something and seen it through, but with a severe lack of deep encouragement--or I guess, no real core understanding of the goal...maybe no goal at all-- I fell flat on my face and began the cycle of death all over again.

That's what we do, right?

It is. You can argue 'til you're blue in the face. But it's what we do. And I'll keep doing it until I finally come face to face with the realization that I can't do a damn thing to change my own life. I'm useless in so many layers. So many ways...

I fear being useless. I think somewhere deep down I feel like it's my God-given right to be useful. And yet, He did give me that right. And I threw it away with one opportunity to know something. Cause we always prefer what we can touch with our hands to what we can't...

So now I choose this life, this echad. I'm carrying my death around on me here and I want it off. I can see it now. With my waking eyes. And at a time, I thought maybe it defined me. That the trauma, the betrayal, the abandonment, the lies... that somehow what all those things had done to me were some deep part of me. If I let it go...if I dared to believe that I could have another life...what would be left of me? Pieces? or worse...nothing at all.

Am I even a person at all?

Or did Death build me?

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It's a memory in the sun, or it's hell in the darkness.
Maybe it's all around to see if we try.
Maybe it's been inside of me all this time.
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Death didn't build me at all. Death has nothing to do with me anymore. Death lied to me. Death betrayed me. Death mutilated my self-perception and made me a stranger to my traumatized body.

And Death is defeated.

Because I've been rescued.

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I've been rescued by Life.

Life has name.

And He makes me useful again.

He makes me like I would've been if Death had never touched me at all.

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It rained almost all day today here. It was steamy and borderline disgusting outside. I usually love summer rain, and I did love the smell today. But I abhore the humidity. So when I walked outside after dinner, I knew the greeting of the hot wet wool blanket of Alabama weather was going to slow me down on the evening work-out via the elliptical machine in the carport. I've been building my tolerance for that damnable machine for awhile now. Slowly but surely I went from lasting barely a minute and a half (I jest not) to 14 minutes, roughly 180 calories.

Tonight I felt like pushing my limits. Carefully, I started moving and breathing just right, like I knew what I was doing. I fought the urge to laugh at myself or be consumed in my self-consciousness and just go inside before I got too disgustingly sweaty for anybody to even look at.

Who was I trying to impress anyway?

Me. I'm trying to impress me.

And I'm trying to get to Africa.

So without a lot of music tonight on that machine, I just kept seeing Africa in my head. I don't know what I would intend to do there. Maybe nothing. Maybe just watch. I don't really know my job. But Jesus and I had quite the conversation tonight about it. And for the first time in a long time....for the first time in my entire life......it's close. My job. My purpose. My dream.

Africa. is close. I could smell it when I closed my eyes and the sweat was producing a mixture of steamy fog and mascera over my contacts. The air was so hot I thought I might not be able to breath any deeper than a shallow huff now and again. But I was determined. Breathe deeply, Megan. Make it last. After this experience, I'm not sure I've ever actually been determined before. I think I've just been afraid to die. So I kept breathing.

But tonight I was more than breathing. I was breathing deeply. In thick, summer wool air. And as if the sky was ripped apart like velcro, the rain fell by the ocean-full. I could see the mud splashing in the yard as raindrops that looked as big as my fist were pounding down. Water was pouring down off the side of the house and blowing into the carport, splashing into my face and on my arm every once in awhile. Right in time... I could take deep breaths so much easier in the rain.

Then it came to me. He whispered it just as sweetly as if He were weeping with me--cheering me along, telling me I was a hero--This is what grace feels like.

And the farther I ran, the harder it fell.

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Jesus is wild.

And He is so gentle with me.

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"You are guilty of no evil, except a little fearfulness. For that, the journey you go on is your pain, and perhaps your cure: for you must be either mad or brave before it is ended..."
--CS Lewis, Out of the Silent Planet