Coming Back

The other day while gingerbreading with our little people, a (new, sweet!) friend briefly recounted a conversation she had with my sister a couple weeks back at, The Birthday Party. The line of thought was regarding my sister's year long running journey and how a person re-enters her "old life" after such a life changing expedition as that.

How does one come back to what was normal before such an epic sojourn?

Right.

Currently feeling stuck somewhere in no man's land, I find myself empathetic to that conundrum. To an outside observer, life has not changed all that significantly, save the addition of one more little person to round us out and nearly even the gender scales.

Yet to us, to me every.thing.has.changed.

And, nothing will satisfy if not meaningful.and.significant.and.impactful.and.life-changing.and.faith.building.and.inspiring.

Going about daily tasks and routines, I find myself wanting more. The thought, concern, fear (!) of consuming without giving back, living without deep gratitude in the form of repayment...it's hard to swallow. Doing anything without meaning, seems, well, kinda' pointless. This season perhaps brings out the ache a little more when the consumerism with which we are often surrounded is sickening.

The thought of living a "normal" life doesn't sit well. Because, how can we return to our "old normal" when we aren't? The blessing of following our ache, our Holy Discontent...it's indescribable and beautiful and incomparable and addictive when we see it through.

We aren't normal because we've endured and experienced and rejoiced in the unthinkable. And what we have seen...well, because of it we are responsible to do greater, better, inordinate things.

And so I am stuck in this place of profound gratitude and unfathomable joy, yet all the while wanting more. Content? Yes, the feeling of contentment and happiness and satisfaction pervade, though there is a fear within me that perhaps I will not push myself and strive to stretch my faith. That I will miss that Still Small Voice telling me to press on for greater things, telling me to seek harder, to look deeper, to live more silently, and to hear the Voice guiding.

Maybe that's what it is. The faith muscles were stretched to the brink of collapsing but they grew and took on more and now, well, they haven't been pressing as much as was necessary many months ago. And the fear of weakening is enough to constantly keep my guard up and there is an incessant wonder of "what next". Not "what next" because there's a void but "what next" because if the journey that brought us here was so incredible then we must give back, we must rejoice, we must give thanks, we must continue to stretch the faith muscles. We must have a "what's next" in our future...somewhere.

Proof that we are made for so much more...it's in our history now. It's evidenced on the pages of the book of this little family and we cannot let that slip away.

Yet through this, I am constantly reminding myself that our painful, faith building, exhausting part of the journey is a mere eleven weeks behind us. Living in the now and enjoying each second is such a fleeting part of the journey. Not missing a second of what we strived for, for years. That is so very important.

So, with eyes fixed upward we continue...content.

But, with eyes fixed upward we continue...seeking only that which is Great and offers more and builds those muscles.

I can't figure I'll find much satisfaction otherwise.