"Faith is a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear.."
Brene Brown in The Gifts of Imperfection
I prefer calculated leaps of faith where I have fully analyzed the situation and its options, talked it over with my confidants, and constructed a plan. There in that calculated leap of faith space, I am courageous. When heightened emotions cloud my logic and the next step is not clear, I do not feel so courageous. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, life does not always come in a cute little calculated package for you to unwrap.
So there I am running along having an in depth conversation with myself and the
big guy upstairs.
My logic and my heart were in conflict. Two things were causing a stir in my life: 1. I was
accepting that I have endometriosis and the pain each month was not going
away. 2. My relationship got hit by an earthquake and probably would
not make a comeback.
I was just running and running.. reflecting, processing, and praying
that I was going to have the faith required of me to find acceptance,
forgiveness, and strength.
Of course, I think that I can take control my emotions and create an action plan for how I will deal with something tough. I was pretty over feeling emotional, thinking I would just take charge, and then down I went.
Thank you, message heard loud and clear. I cannot control everything.
Why is falling in public such a epic event? I mean, really? I did not just fall. Oh, no. I tripped, thought I caught myself, tripped again, and then slid along the sidewalk as if I was sliding into home plate for the final point to win the game.
I feel like the immediate reaction should be to get right up and save yourself from the embarrassment but I just laid there. After a few seconds, I got up and started walking, not quite ready to assess the damage yet.
And why is falling in public never without an audience? Along came a man on a motorcycle who had turned around when he witnessed my fall. Bless him, he was so kind. He asked if I was ok. Yes. Then he commented about how it was quite a fall and he worried that I was not getting up because I laid there so long. Well, I was not sure either. And did I need a ride home? No, I'm alright. Comfort from your falls can come in the most unlikely of places.
The fall was embarrassing, I skinned my hand up, and my shoe got muddy. My leap was not calculated, quite unplanned, and yet, all that really suffered was my pride (and skin on my palm). With my muddy shoe and bloody hand, I ran another three miles.
I have been thinking about that experience here and there over the last two months, usually with a laugh. My relationship did not last and I still have endometriosis. Those are facts. What I do with those facts are really the most important part. While uncomfortable at first, there is really good stuff on the other side of sitting (or laying) in your discomfort, getting up, brushing off the dirt, letting yourself heal, and keeping moving.
I am not sure that I will ever reach a point where I have no fear from my emotions or the things that are unknown. I can choose to have faith, to jump even when I have not ran all the analytics. In that space of faith and fear, there is strength and courage to become more than I have ever been.