Embracing the Journey

I have found life often means functioning in the space of "unknown". Not knowing something is generally uncomfortable. It also poignantly reminds us we are human. A fact we are ok acknowledging when convenient to our inability to wake up on time, or multi-task flawlessly, or a way to shrug off awkward and embarrassing moments. I sometimes look at my life as if I was reading a good book, my own character curiously turning each page thirsty to know how the story ends. I have learned living life in the unknown can be liberating, but only if you truly believe that the author is good.

I had just moved to Portland, Oregon on a short-term contract as a Travel Nurse. It was my very first assignment after being a full-time nurse in Tennessee for 2-3 years. I had much excitement for the future ahead of me. I was going to explore a new healthcare system and grow as a nurse. I also wanted to take in the beauty of mountains and beaches, enjoy the artistic culture of the Pacific Northwest in music and cuisine, and most importantly, think through places in the country that may be nice to settle down for a future home. I was 24 and things were going pretty close to how I had anticipated young twenties should/would look. I had graduated, gained some good experience, was pursuing a relationship with the hopes of settling down in a great place in the near future, where I could then serve my local community, use my nursing skills for people I loved, make a home with a yard for all the neighborhood kids and host big dinner parties.

I started working in the hospital and quickly built some friendships with the nurses around me. I loved their openness. I was often surprised at how honest they were. Like me or love me, take it or leave it, this is who I am. They weren't scared of the unknown and often enjoyed sifting through possibilities. They loved problem solving and pushed me to be ok admitting I just didn't know the answer to something. But that meant there was something we could learn! Change did not necessarily mean you were wrong before, it just meant you had more information now! Growth is good and requires being comfortable being uncomfortable. Their curiosity was contagious, and I thrived in their ER.

We worked hard, and on our days off, we ventured to waterfalls, hiked the river side, and meandered through bookstores that took up a whole city block. I met a man who made guitars out of old wooden boxes. I drove up to Seattle, toured the underground city, and went to the top of the space needle to stare at the ocean. I started cooking classes and tried West Coast Swing -it was the West Coast after all. While I soaked in each new experience in sheer amazement at the world around me, I had no idea my own experience was about to turn quite educational.

It was about 5 hours into a shift and things had not been easy between me and my boyfriend for a few weeks. That day felt especially tense. My mind raced. What had I done wrong? What is he not telling me? What is happening that I don't know about? Unable to tolerate the cryptic silence any longer, I took my lunch break early and went to call him. I needed an answer. I told him I didn't have much time, lunch breaks are only 30 minutes, please just be honest with me. And then he said the shocking words, "I don't want to do this anymore."

I stood on the balcony of the 2nd floor overlooking the lobby. A pianist played the shiny, black grand piano on the 1st floor just beneath me. The sun was setting and beamed brightly into the glass windows that went from the ground to the level where I stood, revealing lush green bushes and trees strategically placed to block the view of the parking lot. This had to be the most beautiful, spa-like hospital lobby I had ever seen. And instead of peace, I was experiencing the most sudden, and unexpected feeling of chaos. "Done? You must be joking." This was spiraling out of control. When we had decided Tennessee wasn't a future for our careers, I had liked the idea of being on this grand adventure. I had failed to anticipate I could be adventuring alone.The conversation was short and relatively final. I walked back to the nurses' station and sat in silence.

What was next? And when I knew what was next, how would I do it? I was 24 years old, in Portland, Oregon with a job contract ending in a few short weeks, no future job solidified, or even future state to move to. When this job ended, I would have no apartment. And with the end of my relationship, my personal goals felt like they were slipping into a vauge and distant future, certainly no approximate home, marriage or children. Also, most of my belongings were currently in the trunk of my Honda accord, while the rest were scattered with friends in Tennessee or family in Minnesota, which required crossing the snowy Rocky Mountains in December. And I was going to need to do it alone.

The nurse assigned to be my partner that day noticed the extreme transition in my demeanor and asked what was wrong. I turned to look into the very caring face of a young woman, whom we will call Daisy. She was maybe in her early 30s, with bright and inquisitive eyes, hidden just slightly behind a few stick-straight bangs that fell forward while most of her hair was thrown on top of her head in two buns. The one on the right was half falling down over her ear and bounced every time she nodded her head. And she did so quite vigorously. So, I sat there, numb from neck down with my hands flopped open in my lap, the utter shock leaving me without strength to fold them. I told her everything.

She listened patiently as I sobbed my heart out. I will forever love her for meeting my pain with empathy. Because, in that moment, it did feel like I was at the mercy of a monster called life. And she let me feel that. But then after that, she inhaled the largest breath of awe and exclaimed, "I am so excited for you!" I was speechless. Surely this was not exciting.

She doubled down and repeated herself. "I am SO wildly excited for you! You are going to experience the depths of humanity, and I cannot WAIT for the adventure you are about to have!" She nodded with each word, her bun nodding along in agreement. She threw her arms around me with consuming joy. And it was her belief that I was going to be ok that gave me strength to finish the rest of my shift.

When that shift finally ended, I climbed into my car and sat in the parking lot thinking about what she had said. I sobbed and laughed. Because as my heart broke, I knew with complete certainty she was right. I was experiencing the depths of humanity: loss, grief, pain, suffering. I was also experiencing the limitations of humanity: physically stuck in a location, unable to predict the future, and what I felt keenly - no control to invent or create the things or relationships I wanted most.

But it was experiencing the depths of humanity that made me stop and ask if I knew the depths of my God. If God existed, which I was convinced He did for I had experienced Him my whole life, then is He a capable God? Is He a good God?I had always believed He is a good God, working out things for me. But none of this felt good. This was a moment where what I thought and what I felt would somehow need to be reconciled.

My mind raced back to the stories I had listened to growing up. Stories from the Bible, from history, from fellow friends, from my Grama, and Grandpa, who had recently gone to prison. This was the God who provided when everything fell apart. This was the God who brought hardships and then raised people up from them to even bigger and fuller lives. This was a God who promised to be present, even when it didn't make sense. And in my own life experiences, I had felt His love in so many small and consistent ways. He provided just the right kindness from a stranger when my day had been so heavy; or gifted food when a long shift suddenly had left me almost fainting, and carried me through terrifying moments, and whispered me answers when things felt so confusing. So if those other stories were true, if God could do amazing things in people's lives, bring them to beautiful places and great joys, then this same God, still active and unchanged, can do this for me. So I said to Him, "God. I am on a wild adventure at the depths of humanity. If You want to do something amazing, I think it is time."

A small flicker of hope was born and started to chase away the terror of the unknowns. I was still alive. I had my health. New plans could be made. New futures could be found. For I was nestled safe in the hand of a loving God, who was working out for me and in me good things. Daisy was right. I had just embarked on the wildest of adventures - because as it turns out, at the depths of humanity, the Author of wild adventures has most likely just finished chapter one.

So, Dear Friend, if you have reached the brink of exhaustion, the end of your plans, all is spiraling out of your control, and are feeling like there is no hope, then just know.... I am SO excited for you! You have found the limitations of your humanity! And the adventure ahead is going to be SO GOOD! And not because it will all just magically work out, or because you can only go up from here... it is because you are wonderfully made and deeply cherished and the God who did that is so delighted to hold you! And if you might find yourself finally comfortable saying, "I don't know", just follow it up with "Go on, God. Do wild things. I'm waiting for something amazing to happen."