Anyway, tonight, I make an exception. After all, this blog is all about the truth of the trip. Well, here's tonight's truth. Tonight's no-good, whiny, poor-me truth:
I'm scared. I'm frustrated. I'm overwhelmed. I want to cry when I actually stop to think what I'm doing. I want to call it all off. I want to puke. I am terrified of the cliffs on the 101, the traffic in LA, the long stretches of road, the lack of proper rest stops in South Dakota, the way I will smell after the first 3 days, the animal skins in the Indian villages, the living bears in Yellowstone, my car getting a flat tire in the desert, the infrequency of solid sleep, but, mostly, the uncertainty of life after the trip.
I feel like I'm so close to the trip that I'm starting to lose focus of the trip.
Everyone is talking about it like it's a huge vacation. I'm getting huge discounts places (I just got upgraded at the Hilton! squeal!), which is cool. I'm researching the best things to do in every city. But that's not the point. That was never the point.
I put this trip together for one purpose: to see what God has next for me.
It's hitting more and more that I'm not leaving time for that. Where did I schedule that in between the Lake Mead paddleboat ride and the iO tickets?
I think I'm starting to get really scared because it's one thing to say you want God to direct your path, it's another to let Him. God and I haven't been bffs this year. We've been more like office friends. The kind you see on the street or at the grocery so wave and smile to but keep walking on. I don't want that. I haven't wanted that. I think that happens when you are away from the Bubble. I want God to tell me what's next. However, I also want to be in control. I'm very good at control. Just ask my sister who I left in tears tonight at the end of our phone call. But, so very, very, uncomfortably soon, I will no longer be in control. The time for planning will be over and it will be time to do nothing but trust.
It's like when I do air swings. I love being cranked up. I love swinging down. I hate letting go of the cord. The second I have to let go, is the worst second of the entire experience. Up to this point, in my warped mind, if anything went wrong, I could pull myself to safety with the little piece of rope. But as soon as I let go, everything will fall apart: the rope holding my up will mysteriously be severed in half in midair, the entire apparatus will collapse, and the aliens will finally come to collect all earthlings. Yes, it's for your safety, as well as mine, I hold on.
How conceited am I? It's time to pull the rip cord.
wish me luck. but more importantly, pray for me. thanks.
the nomad
