Lindsay Writes

It’s different here.

One would expect only that when moving across the world and yet it still came as a surprise.

It’s different in the familiar.

English spoken with an accent that requires attention. Modern transportation and Ubers driving on the left side of the road to foreign destinations. Common produce waiting to be bought in the bustle of the daily wet market.

It’s different.

And it’s that journey into the new that excites me, energizes me, motivates me. In the very same journey, however, I find myself intimated, exhausted, and somewhat detached. It’s an inner tension that keeps my mind on it’s toes.

There’s an excitement in this idea that these things, currently seeming so new, could one day be ordinary aspects of my life. That in time, my circle of comfort could grow to include this newness as well.

This end-goal of growth intrigues me greatly yet I often find it overshadowed by the daunting months ahead.

It’s that “in time” part that scares me.

The months ahead filled with moments of being so uncomfortable my head physically aches. The conversations that can only go so deep with broken English. The zig-zagging across the market, unsure of what I’m about to consume.

So I’m daring myself to run headlong into this fear. The post-transition months are far too valuable to throw away because of a fleeting comfort zone.

I see it as a challenge.

A challenge to step beyond the version of myself I currently am. A challenge to see the world through new eyes. To believe that there is beauty in confusion and laughter in culture mishaps.

It’s summoning my true faith, my most vulnerable trust in God. It’s requiring a daily choice of emotions. And I’m thankful. So thankful.

I’m thankful for the different. I’m thankful for the growth.

But mostly, I’m thankful for who I’m becoming.

September 23, 2018

It was a battle of wills.

Two wills.
Both her own yet at war in her mind.

Two wills constantly overpowering each other with no clear victory.

A will to dare.
To trust.
To believe.

A will to be comfortable.
To control.
To see.

In a whirl of self-contradiction she wanted both.

She wanted to be free yet safe, courageous yet cautious.

But what she discovered was a trade.

A trade of her life.

A trade of her will for the will of her Father.

A trade of control for hope, sight for faith.

What was at war within her
is now at war within the world.

And so it’s a battle of wills.

And one is not her own.


September 23, 2018