Diary Of A Runaway

I’ve always had dirty shoes.  Dust-covered, worn in, high mileage shoes.  Well, at least figuratively speaking.  I like adventure.  I like new beginnings.  But I’m not as naturally inclined to stick around, stick it out, and finish what I started.  I’m the “ping” and I tend to leave the “pong” for someone else.

My life could easily be charted out in a series of from-here-to-there moves.  From mom’s house to dad’s.  Then back to mom’s.  Then repeat a thousand  times.  From one friend to the next.   One dorm room to another.  One mistake in a series of more.  One shallow relationship in the whole string of them.   From one summer job to the next summer trip.  Then finally came “The Big Move” to California.  And that’s the segment of the chart I’m still wrestling through because for once in my life I am attempting to stick something out till the end, or at least until God changes my course for me, versus pulling the plug prematurely.

I looked in the mirror today and was practically shocked by my appearance.  My once shimmering blonde hair is now a color the bottle called Dark Auburn which is brownish but gleams red in the sunlight.  My short summer bob has grown out to where it falls nicely just below my shoulders.  My jeans are skinnier.  And black.  I own a leather (well, pleather) jacket.  I have strange shoes on my feet made out of a single piece of cloth.  My clothes range from exciting browns and grays to the occasional burst of color or blue.  Not like anyone cares, but to me its representative.  I’m a firm believer fashion is representative of a person, at least to a certain degree.  It speaks of who you are, what you care about, how you view yourself.  Well lately as I’ve been attempting to mature, to find a more solid grounding in my life, and to grow into these skinnier pants of mine I think subconsciously I’ve traded in my rebellious and spontaneous strappy tank tops for more of an artistic view of things.  I know I’m weird, but this kind of stuff matters to me.  I actually do think like this.

So as my fashion displays, I’m in a bit of a dark period.  Not in a depressing, cry-my-eyes-out kind of way.  But in my mind, my heart, and my life in general I’m transitioning, yet again.  Call it a voyage, a walk in the night, or a dark night of the soul even.  And I’m attempting to go against the strong undertow of the current and break through some of the rather tall dam walls that are standing in my way.  I’m attempting to stay put, and hardest of all to be happy about it.  And not just happy, really I’m shooting for ecstatic.

I rounded a corner yesterday as I finally let forgiveness flood my heart, looked my demons in the eye and told them so long and farewell.  So today is feeling different.  Lighter.  More free.  It feels really good.  I sang a Chris Tomlin song at the top of my lungs on the freeway today… “Like a rolling stone, like a runaway train, no more turning back, no more yesterdays, my heart is free no chains on me, God you raise me up, up from the grave, the cross before me I’m on my way, my heart is free, no chains on me.” I decided that if I can program my internal stereo to constantly sing Chris Tomlin songs I would inevitably have good days more often than not.

I also drove by the teeny tiny San Luis Obispo airport.  I’m extremely sentimental and for some reason this airport feels special to me.  Maybe because when I landed here it was the first place I saw so internally I feel the need to return to the Mother Ship every now and then just to say hi.  But it’s like my reminder.  My physical representation of God’s grace and the free-will He gives.  Because God will not hold me here.  He granted me the grace to come here on a one-way ticket and if I choose to remove myself all I have to do is buy another one-way (and convince my husband to join me I suppose).  Kind of like an alcoholic who passes by the liquor store just to remember how things used to be; knowing he could go in but doesn’t dare to.  It’s like that I suppose.  A reminder that my life here was, and still is, a gift.  So I passed it by, drove slow enough and just long enough to scoff at the idea of actually leaving it all behind.  And with that I cranked the stereo back up.

In a world where homes aren’t really homes and where families break up, I’m setting my sights extremely high.  It will be a miracle if I make it.  Which is why I’m expectant because I happen to know someone who loves to do a good miracle.

For once in my life I’m not going to run.


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