Things are starting to get real. Not like they were ever not real, if that makes sense… just that this last month I've been taking care of the mundane things that need to get done, the things that absolutely must be done in order for me to go on this crazy World Race thing… All those things (with the exception of getting my will notarized, and no, I absolutely don't want to talk about what a scary thing THAT is) are finished. There are nine days between me and that plane to L.A. Nine. Count 'em.
My bag is READY to be packed. My passport is READY to be stamped. My journal is READY to be filled with stories.
But really, I'm not READY at all. I'm not READY for any of it. I don't have a clue what these next eleven months are going to look like, feel like, smell like, taste like, sleep like, dream like, be like. I couldn't have prepared if I wanted to, but believe me I wanted to. I tried.
Something tells me that I failed.
Something tells me that's okay.
Something tells me that this is going to be my hardest year. My best year. My most defining year.
All the years before have been the prelude, the preface, the prologue.
This year, I want to know that my mind is a map that HE charted… that my heart is a house that HE built… that my life is a story that HE wrote…
And all I really want is to be able to look back and say that I said "YES, LORD", whenever He said "Go" or "Do" or "Love".
