long walks

Over the past few days, I've spent at least two and a half hours just walking through Holland.  One day, I started walking westward and just kept going until I hit the lake.  Today, I simply meandered through downtown, back towards the lake, and then back downtown.  I dropped by a couple of the shops that were still open, and I talked to myself a lot.

You see, walking and talking is the single best way that I process things.  I think it has something to do with being a tour guide for three years: "keep walking, this way..."

I've spent the last week and a half just trying to figure out what exactly happened over the last seven months that made things so different.  I feel different.  I am different.  But how?  What happened that makes this new me better (or worse) than the old me?

I've spent hours poring over life decisions, made and unmade.  Fretting over things I probably shouldn't have done, and the opportunities that I missed. But I still can't name it.  I still can't figure it out.

In about two weeks, I need to have something to share with my peer group about my life--who I am, how I came to be here, and the people and events that have shaped me most. But how much can I really share with people that I've only known for four weeks?  Sure, sharing the happy moments of my life is easy--but there's no sharing my life without including moments of intense pain, loss, and heartache.  There's no explaining how I came to be here without sharing why I left in the first place: loneliness, a deep-seated sense of inadequacy, and a terrible fear of failure. 

I wish I could say that even now, my life is roses. I'm happy to be here, don't get me wrong--but at the same time, those feelings still linger.  I find myself unable to concentrate on anything for very long before my thoughts drift into "what if?" and other such questions.  I often find my sanity again in Pinterest, the world where everything is DIY, rather than "wait on the Lord."

Seminary's hard. I continuously remind myself that God has to have something absolutely ridiculous in store for me once this is all done, and that keeps me from asking too many questions.  After all, had I known everything that would happen in 2012 when I left Western in January, I probably would have had a panic attack. I might have turned around right then and come back.

But I'm better for those 7 months.  I am different, somehow.  And maybe one day I'll figure out how to say it.