A Year Later

4.01.2014

I've been trying to come up with a way to articulate what my life is like now, almost a whole year after leaving Delta. It was a big decision giving it up. It was all Bryan and I had known for our relationship. It was something I worked really hard to achieve, and much of the time -- I really loved it. I know most might be tempted to roll their eyes because it's not like I was a brain surgeon or working with Meryl Streep (yes, I put Meryl Streep and brain surgeons on the same level of brilliance), but it was something I earned and something I was good at and a really significant chapter for me in all of the ways I changed and grew and learned and experienced how big and small the world is.

I remembered something I wrote a long time ago, and realized it sums up how I felt in the transition from flying to life back on the ground. 

I wrote this right before I left for my seven weeks of training in Atlanta. I'd never lived that far from home. I remember being so excited and afraid and sometimes anxious.

(earth and water by langdon graves)

I’ve sat at a desk, hoping that one day I would go somewhere. 

That God would change me into something better than I was sitting in my office chair.

There’s nothing wrong with sitting in an office chair. It was my heart, in the chair, that was wrong.

I just hoped God would turn my heart into something that looked more like His own. Something lovely. 

And for a long time, a little thought crept in. That I would be the same forever. That God didn’t hear me. And that — was a lie. 

But change requires time. Change sometimes requires sadness, and sometimes pain -- but it’s a sometimes. It’s not a forever.

My sister started watching Lost. And I started (again) because I like being around her. (And sometimes Matthew Fox).

Plane crashing and mysterious island monsters aside, there’s a small moment that I noticed. Jack (a doctor…and, Matthew Fox) tells Kate a story (while she’s stitching his open wound with a needle and thread). He was in the middle of surgery and made a grave mistake. 

He allowed himself five seconds to be completely consumed with the fear and panic of what he’d done. 

Five seconds, and then it was over—-and then he had to choose to complete the surgery and save the patient.

Five seconds to validate every emotion swelling in your heart, and then, action.

Some people think they need hours. Some days. Or weeks. Some spend the rest of their life hoping for something different, or wonder what decision wasn’t the right one. 

I anticipated a lot of mourning -- of thinking wistfully of traveling all over and forgetting the long days without much rest and rude people. I expected for it to be hard to adjust to life on the ground every day. And I forgot all about the mercy that comes with obedience and faith. The latter has left me astounded at this past year and its abundant blessings and grace. It hasn't been perfect, but it has been joyful.

I know I made the right decision, even though it was giving up something I loved. I gave up something I loved for what I knew I loved better (my husband), and now -- my baby girl that's still growing inside me and shoving her butt up inside my ribcage whenever I sit down.

And I'd make the same choice every time.