It seems like everyone has settled into the new year while I’m just starting mine. Amidst the chaos of family visiting, wrapping up loose ends (and Christmas presents!), and catching up with friends, I barely had time to collect my thoughts and think about the year that was. And now here I am, suitcase packed for my next adventure – one that will span fourteen months, two continents, three time zones (really, someone should outlaw DST) and four cities (if you count my current city of residence). The past eight or so weeks have felt like I was thrown into a washer-dryer. I’ve just come out of the spin cycle, getting my bearings. Two months ago I was staring at the pyramids in Giza, putting my 2020 plans on pause. Apparently, I can’t stop time and Providence. Fast forward to me today – about to get tumble-dried, wondering where and how I will spend my first few hours in Milan, just five days from now.
I suppose many would love to be in my shoes, facing my circumstances. After all, my trip to Europe brings with it new hope for a different future. It’s another chance for me to get out there again and see what the world has to offer. It’s exciting, yet I don’t feel thrilled at the moment. The everyday, mundane things preoccupy me a little too much.
2019 wasn’t phenomenal, by any standard. Interesting, perhaps. Eventful, most probably. I’ve seen and done and experienced a lot more in the past 12 months than I have in the years that came before. In practically every aspect of my life, I’ve grown. Not in big spurts but in the slow, tedious way plants do. Almost imperceptibly. I guess everything that happened in the past year paved the way for this insane leap into the unknown. (Please don’t sing that song from Frozen 2.)
Still, I feel ill-prepared for what lies ahead, in almost every conceivable way. This must be what it feels like to have your faith stretched beyond comfortable limits. To know very little about the future, except that God has promised to be with me on this journey.
On some level, 2020 feels like another chance to shape my tomorrows. To have another go at the kind of life that I thought I had lost. It’s what I had always wanted, yet it feels so alien right now. Have I sunk so deeply into my ordinary life that I no longer yearn to be extraordinary?
Age does a funny thing to people. It makes them realistic. Where I used to consider possibilities, I now think of probabilities. I rain on my own parade, most days. And maybe that’s not so bad. It helps me appreciate what I have, when I have it. Not before. But perhaps also, after. Hindsight is always 20/20.
When the entire wash and dry cycle is done, I’ll probably acknowledge it for what it is. A necessary step towards a fresh start.
Right now, though, it’s time for another spin.
Image from unsplash by chrissie kremer
