It has been approximately two months now since my final day in the office. Except my final day actually consisted of catching a flight from Argentina back to Atlanta, to catch another flight back to Texas where I could spend the holidays with my family.
Goodbyes become normal in our community; we have a metaphorical revolving door at the front of our office that is continually set on a spin cycle. It’s difficult and beautiful and an incredible opportunity to learn how to dive deep, love deeper, and send people off with joy, celebration, and rejoicing.
But it’s also a time of wet eyes, lumps in throats, and unexpected emotions of grief in 3o’clock meetings.
“I once asked myself how to stop wanting something.
The only thing I heard back was that I had to start wanting something else more.
So began the transition into the new season of what I pray actually gets me to that point. And here now is where you find me; three months later on a midnight Friday eve, lying restless in my bed staring at the ceiling and talking to myself. I’d tell you that at least I haven’t started talking back, but I’m not sure that would be entirely true.
I was still in Georgia, walking back to the car in a joy filled mood after a winning game and the traditional Friday night firework show to cap it all off. We walked slow, letting the crowd file out as to enjoy the weather of a summer’s day end; stalling in the parking lot as we shot the breeze.
That’s when he approached us.
It was another day for me, one where I found myself at the office without a title or a job, taskless and wandering, wondering what I was even doing. I had entered a transitory season; finishing CGA and my time at the office as I entered into my new role as a squad leader. These few weeks had been awkward and new, leaving me with time on my hands and unrest in body.
So I sought out the hammock.
