A few weekends ago a bunch of people got together to play a 5 v 5 indoor soccer tourney. It was a friendly set of matches. HOWEVER, even friendlies have their moments of competition. It is in those moments one ends up with a toe that looks like this:
I feel like the pain, discoloration and eventual loss of my toe nail all reflect the deeper struggles of the last few weeks. I set out on this new journey of life thinking I was moving forward on the path that had been set before me. I believed that I was where I was supposed to be. Things fell into place so perfectly. The job fit me so well, the location was amazing and I already had plans to grow and deepen friendships. It was a dream come true and a chance to do something that satisfied my soul’s longing to have an impact among a people I love.
The trauma of having my heart smashed – just like getting kicked – has left a big, ugly bruise. You know the kind where even the lightest of touches makes you scream in pain. It’s the kind of bruise that makes you hobble around for days and gets bigger and darker with each passing moment. Honestly, it is the kind of bruise that I might usually show off in pride because I had lived through the large amount of pain necessary to cause such a bruise. Right now there is no pride in my bruise. I cannot stand in a Rockyesque pose with my arms lifted in victory because it still hurts to lift my arms.
As the discoloration of my dream sets in the hardest question has been how could I decide to move on to something else? I was so sure this is where I was supposed to be going. It was where I wanted to be going … yet even in the changes I know I am where I am supposed to be. I know I did not take a wrong turn on the road forward. Nor will I speculate what I missed because I do not think I missed anything. It just appears that the Land of the Scots will not be my first stop; the ancient Celtic language will not be my third language.
The eventual loss of a toe nail is the body’s response to healing the brokenness and riding the body of impurities in order for new growth – the change in plans and my response to those changes is part of my soul’s own refining. It is a chance for new growth in faith, strength and dependence on my Father above. I look forward to the day when my heart once again matches where I am … just as my toes will match again, looking normal and healthy.
The trauma of having my heart smashed – just like getting kicked – has left a big, ugly bruise. You know the kind where even the lightest of touches makes you scream in pain. It’s the kind of bruise that makes you hobble around for days and gets bigger and darker with each passing moment. Honestly, it is the kind of bruise that I might usually show off in pride because I had lived through the large amount of pain necessary to cause such a bruise. Right now there is no pride in my bruise. I cannot stand in a Rockyesque pose with my arms lifted in victory because it still hurts to lift my arms.
As the discoloration of my dream sets in the hardest question has been how could I decide to move on to something else? I was so sure this is where I was supposed to be going. It was where I wanted to be going … yet even in the changes I know I am where I am supposed to be. I know I did not take a wrong turn on the road forward. Nor will I speculate what I missed because I do not think I missed anything. It just appears that the Land of the Scots will not be my first stop; the ancient Celtic language will not be my third language.
The eventual loss of a toe nail is the body’s response to healing the brokenness and riding the body of impurities in order for new growth – the change in plans and my response to those changes is part of my soul’s own refining. It is a chance for new growth in faith, strength and dependence on my Father above. I look forward to the day when my heart once again matches where I am … just as my toes will match again, looking normal and healthy.
