It all started with a conversation.
Or did it?
Perhaps it all started long before that conversation.
Perhaps it all started with a question.
Or maybe it started with an observation, which then launched a desire, which birthed a dream.
It seems like there have been so many starting points along this road. No wonder it took us so long to realize we were even on it.
Starting points. New beginnings. A dream that will not die.
It’s difficult to know where it began, and difficult not to wonder if it will ever end.
And the stories! The stories never end.
Two years, four years, eight years, nine years, twelve years....The length of time some people I know have waited without seeking help before their dream was fulfilled.
Should we keep waiting?
One, two, three, five, seven, nine, eleven, fourteen....The number of attempts I know of that failed for others with the most sophisticated, expensive help available before the dream became a reality.
Should we charge ahead?
The starting points never end. Or is it that there was really only one starting point and there are just many forks in the road?
I had grown comfortable on this journey, secure in waiting, relieved to not have to think about making decisions.
And now I find myself at a starting point again. For my husband, it is just a fork in the road. For me, it is a place to begin again. Perhaps it’s at a higher elevation on this journey, as if I climbed some stairs. Progress and growth of my spirit and character was not lost. I’m definitely farther along in those areas than I’ve been before.
And yet, there’s something very familiar about it all.
I have definitely faced this decision before. Many, many times, in fact. But I have always faced it from a new place on this road, so it always seems I am starting all over again.
I am aware of so much more, so the decision should be easy this time, right?
In many ways it is an easy decision. In fact, the decision has been made. Phone calls have been made. Plans are set in motion, and tomorrow marks the first step on this “new” path before me.
But am I ready?
I don’t feel a sense of dread. I don’t have any trepidation. I don’t sense that there’s anything wrong with moving forward.
Instead, I find that it’s very much like waking up in a warm, comfortable bed on a cold, wintery Saturday morning when I know there are things that need to be done, but I feel like I’ve got the whole day to do them.
It seems that I have milked staying in the warm, comfortable bed for all it’s worth, and it’s time I attended to what needs to be done. There are no clanging bells of an alarm, no shouting voices telling me to get out of bed. There’s just the realization that I’ve been there long enough and that laying there any longer is something I would regret.
I am thankful to be in this place, but I find that my countenance is somewhat subdued. The air is a bit colder out from under those figurative covers. My figurative clothing is much less comfortable than those cozy pajamas worn for resting. I am having to adjust to this change, but it feels good to be moving again.
Have you been there? At the very least, have you had one of those real Saturday mornings?
I am looking forward to what’s ahead, but it’s a bit of a shock to my mental and emotional systems right now.
I have grown used to being blind-sided by statements from well-meaning people and questions from curious strangers. I have not, however, grown used to being blind-sided by a change in direction, or a change of plans.
I was blind-sided by the conversation...the pivotal conversation with my husband that planted a starting line right in the middle of the road again.
But this is good. And it will be good.
I look forward to sharing more details in the future, but for now just know that the familiar ground I’m treading upon is taking some time to get used to again. If you’re one who prays, I would sure appreciate your prayers as I, as we, move forward together in hope.