Life is messy.
I don’t mean worthless. I mean chaotic, unorganized, often times confusing, very much imperfect.
And it’s like I keep thinking I’m going to wake up one day and that won’t be the case.
Driving down the streets of Roanoke this weekend, I realized something as I was weaving through the tall buildings that lined the crowded streets… I’m not always going to know where I am or where I’m going. I’m not always going to appreciate the traffic. I’m rarely going to be content with the red lights. But that never keeps me from the adventure because I know in the end, the story is what I will value. The moment in time where something unexpected happened, something worth telling, something worth remembering…and that’s why I keep going.
I’m realizing that’s somewhat a picture of hope for me. There will be a story to tell, unexpected things will occur, good things and people will be on my path. Granted, I’ll have to ride behind some slow people, I’ll have to yield for pedestrians, I will have to choose whether or not to stomp on the gas or slam on the break when the light is yellow. It won’t be a breezy drive down an open highway all the time. It will get messy.
But I want to see the world and that has a cost. Sometimes it’s being stuck on a six hour flight with dirty old men, many times it’s long car rides of getting lost that wear on my wallet and my energy; all of the time it’s getting stuck in inconvenient messes that cause me to question why I ever left home in the first place.
And I don’t just want to see the world, I want to live in the fullness of all that it offers and many times that cost is even higher. It charges me a high price of brokenness, humility and bravery. If I want to feel it all, smell it all, taste it all. But I cannot hold onto what’s comfortable, I have to give those up in order to experience the glory of the unknown.
It is both the most beautiful, rewarding and incredible journey… but it is costly, it is exhausting; yet, for me, it’s clear.. the messy road seems the only worthy choice.