On Moving Forward

I have a confession. I have been avoiding you. Many times in the past six months I have thought about you. I consider telling you of Friday night exploits, new goals of becoming a master chef or random considerations - such as commentary on NFL announcers or the male sport with the finest comprehensive physique.

I visit posts and remember days of old when I felt comfortable sharing my thoughts, both intimate and shallow. A time or two I even began writing. Each time, I stopped, not because I do not care about you, but because I want to be open, even vulnerable with you and the five people who shuffle through my posts. While said topics would elicit a chuckle, they are not truly on my heart. I come to you, hoping by the end of my rambling, I will have articulated that which I have been been scared to write for some time.

As we have discussed ad nauseum, this chapter removed from lifetime comforts and those I hold dear has at times been lonely, frustrating and stressful, which I definitely expected. I did not expect that after two and a half years, it would remain hard. More than that, I realize evermore the difficulty of maintaining one's integrity and priorities when others are questioning not only you, but also themselves.

If I am utterly honest with myself - which is always difficult - I have suppressed my values and ignored my priorities because settling is easy. Steps toward improvement are followed by steps (sometimes leaps) backward. But if one does not move forward, there will not be the disappointment of digression.

I am not speaking of my illustrious career, social life or even my fitness, because those have been thriving - relatively speaking. I started a new job where I am able to make an impact on the company in ways not possible at my past job. I stroll the downtown mall, engaging in casual (but always entertaining) conversations with fellow restaurant employees, my adopted grandparents, Ken and Sherry, or the random friend whose name I cannot remember. As the father of a middle school classmate once observed: "She's a hoot." It was true at age ten, and it still accurately depicts my personality. I joined a gym in August and due to exorbitant fees, I frequent the establishment at least four times a week.

Yes, these are tangible improvements and offer a positive sense of stability, but I have never desired definition from them - other than in my biceps and calves. From where then, do I acquire my identity?

Last year, my grandma celebrated her 85th birthday. Although she was disappointed to enter a surprise party rather than the silent auction promised her, she humored the family. Many spoke of her caring spirit, sacrificial heart and sarcastic wit; she in turn relayed a silly anecdote. When I expressed my gratitude and admiration, her story was a bit different, and for that I am flattered and grateful.

I was two, and Grandma was babysitting my mentally retarded brother, Stephen, and me. He was a year older than I but his bodily functions had barely developed. Apparently I had a bowl of Fruit Loops and while Grandma was in the kitchen, began feeding them to Stephen. Grandma returned to a coughing grandson and a granddaughter who merely wanted another to experience what she was so blessed to have.

The love one shares with others may be brutally rebuffed; they may not have the capacity to return in kind. It may also be accepted in fullness and joy. Regardless the reception, all shallow encounters will fade, but what I have invested in others will remain - even if it is a mere seed planted in a genuine conversation.

My decision to move to Charlottesville and that to quit my job were based on a belief that God called me to do so. Both forced me out of my comfort zone; admittedly, I have bemoaned that fact and questioned its purpose. Had I stayed in Chardon, I would have been comfortable. Had my first job gone as I foresaw, I would have been comfortable. Heck, if some guy had decided I was the greatest thing since any treat wrapped in bacon and I had returned the compliment, I would have been comfortable. God has used this experience to continually remind me He is the only source of true comfort and fulfillment. Apart from Him, there is a void that cannot be filled through any amount of extracurricular activity.

I was in a similar place last year - and the year before, and the year before. Funny how our flaws seem to be cyclical. Each time, I stepped forward. These steps were followed by backward bounds and a time when I did not move for fear of failure. I am going to step forward again in the love of One who has been waiting for me to come to a place of complete surrender - a place where I am willing to admit that I cannot do this of my own power, no matter my resolution.

Per usual, I am not entirely sure what I am trying to say, but I believe it is something like this: I do not know God's ultimate purpose in bringing me to Charlottesville or how long I will remain; I suppose I may never fully understand. I do know that wherever I am, if I am not sharing the love so graciously given me and cultivating my relationship with Him, I am wasted.

And I promise... the next post will be dedicated to the outfits on Sunday NFL countdown. Or Lebron James. Or cheese. I do really like cheese.