A Different Life
The following is from a micro-blog I wrote last summer while on sabbatical. At the time, I was sitting on the beach of the Indian Ocean in Kenya. I had just read my words from three years earlier (see image below). Because I had made that image with my own words due to Katie’s encouragement (aka pushing), and I was sitting next to her in the most beautiful place, some words flowed.
So, here are some random musings from that morning in Kenya.
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I just leaned over to Katie and said, “You’re the reason I started making images of my quote; read this.”
She did. Looked at me. “Damn.”
Yup.
I am in Rwanda this month visiting Katie who I have been mentoring since she was a fresh-faced freshman at the University of Arkansas (nearly 13 years ago). For the new people to my mentoring philosophy, that means that at this point, we are mentoring each other.
The last time I was in Rwanda, I told Katie that on my next trip, I wanted to go to Kenya. Allow me a digression, Katie could be a travel agent; she is fantastic at making great arrangements and itineraries. So, she and I are on vacation (“offline”) until Thursday after flying to Kenya on Friday morning which was supposed to be Thursday, and I can’t tell the story until I am back in Rwanda. I kid you not, the ambassador was involved.
We took a train yesterday from our friend’s home in Nairobi to Mombasa where we hired a driver to take us the two hours to Diani Beach. I am at the Indian Ocean people (BUCKET LIST!!!), and it is more than I could ever have dreamed.
I’m serious.
A few minutes ago, I woke up on the beach to three camels standing in front of me.
ON. THE. BEACH.
I’m tearing up as I write this. The abundance of the past few days…the past 24 hours…is too much for my heart.
Yesterday, I FINALLY got to see an elephant, and I started crying (as Katie documented the whole thing). As I sat on the beach watching the sunrise this morning, I wrote an essay for a chapter in the book I am trying to complete on this sabbatical. A book I have picked up and sat down for more than a half-dozen years and living out for more than a dozen. I thought the chapter was done until I saw that elephant yesterday on a red dirt road in Kenya waving his ear at me. God had some new, fresh words.
So, twenty-two months ago, I made plans to be in Rwanda this month smack in the middle of my sabbatical. I have been working HARD for this time. My plan? Just be in Rwanda. Let God do his thing. Well, I am here to tell you, friends, he is.
I walked two miles this morning on the cleanest, clearest beach I have ever been on, and suddenly noticed my footprints so I took a photo. It took my breath for a minute. My fellow “Footprints” poem people will get it.
God has not let up his grip on me EVER, but certainly not since that day in January 2012 when my life pivoted in the worst ways. I’m working to faithfully complete the writing of what happened those next twelve months, and then the following (nearly) 12 years. The heart of it is what happens when you submit to what failure wants to teach you instead of waving it away as you bounce back. I want to honor the work God has done in me these past dozen years. The work I have done in me. I want to honor what happens when God gives you a word for twenty-two months in the future, and you actually BELIEVE him and work to walk it out.
The saltwater, sand, sunscreen, and tears are now creating a very painful mix in my eyes.
Here is the deal. Three years ago, I said to God, “I want a different life.” God cracked a door two months later and said “Checkmate.” I had to decide whether I would walk through the door he cracked; I have been walking out his words ever since.
There is a piece of the book that I won’t spoil here, but I wrote it nineteen months before it happened in real life, and I want you to know it is the best writing I have ever done. I pray it makes it to the final published book. I also want you to know that a different life while possible is the SCARIEST thing I have ever done (and I was raising two four-year-olds at the age of eight.) Don’t give up. On God. On YOURSELF. Please.
Also, the Indian Ocean is what dreams are made of, and I am currently obsessed with all things Kenya. Sis is seriously concerned I am never coming back.
I am. Promise.
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Re-reading those words from that day in Kenya is emotional. It has been seven months since I flew back stateside after four months overseas for the first sabbatical of my life. I wish I could say that you listen to God, follow his instructions, do the hard and brave things, and then easy-peasy it all works out. Oh, how I wish that. For you. For me. For all of us.
There has been no victory lap just because I did something brave.
Something good.
The reality is now you do another thing. Take another next first step. This is how you get better. Stronger. And yes, braver. This is how you win the race...your race...no one else’s.
When I got back from my sabbatical, I was confident that my next steps were going to roll out before me like the red carpet at the Oscars. It was nothing like that. I have experienced crippling amounts of self-doubt. People that I thought would always be by my side are suddenly gone. I am not sure what has been harder, the rollercoaster of euphoria and doubt, or living out an episode of The Body Snatchers as relationships evaporated. Transition seasons are difficult. Even the ones you planned for, worked for or were excited about. I was ill-prepared for the challenges. This has been a season of expansive growth for me. It is a lot easier to smile as I type that on the backend of the past seven months. Let me be clear.
I want my experiences to encourage you to look around and assess...where has God cracked a door? How long are you going to make him wait? Or make yourself wait?
There is no better time than now to step out in an act of faith toward a different life.
Sending lots of love this Good Friday.
Love,
Heather
Author’s Note: From time to time, I will be sharing writings from the past fifteen years (give or take). Some I will share verbatim. Others I will tweak or update. However I share them, I will always tag them as #FromTheArchives to note that not every word included is from the present day. When you have been writing as long as I have, your views, circumstances, and perspectives have surely changed, but therein lies something beautiful. I hope you believe growth is beautiful too.