I’m both looking forward to and dreading this weekend. Three days of family gathering sandwiched between two very long days of travel.
This has been an annual trip for several years now and normally it’s an eight to ten hour drive. Not for me this year. This year I’ve been told I’m going on a detour which will add as much as six hours of travel in a black car without air conditioning. My daughter will be traveling a shorter route with her grandparents and I may not see her until the next day, depending how things go.
I look forward to these trips because it’s a chance to see some family who live on the far side of the country, who I wouldn’t otherwise see. And who I like the chance to catch up with.
I dread these trips because I have to deal with a side of the family where expectations of ‘proper’ behaviour are high and tolerance for any deviation from those expectations is almost non-existent. This is the ‘Christian’ side of my family.
There’s this cycle I’ve been going through in recent months. And I think, just maybe, I’m not alone in this feeling.
There’s a lesson learned, a feeling of increased connection to God, to Jesus, to my purpose in life.
And then there’s a waiting room. A space of feeling disconnected once again. Of wondering what’s next. Of wondering if I’d only imagined what I felt, the lesson learned, the connection.
A space of having to trust and hold my faith even tighter because otherwise I feel like I’m falling again.
I’m waiting for the next reminder. The next lesson. The next… anything which deepens my connection to God and what it is He is calling me to do with my life.