I Think I Made a Mistake

I need to write about 12 different posts to describe the last month or two.  I think I need to write about 10 of those 12 just describing the emotional upheaval that I have experienced since last Friday when I left the Southwest Airlines' headquarters for the last time for the foreseeable future.  I am not entirely sure where to begin the story, so I am just going to start typing.

It hurts.  A lot.  A choice I made, willingly, to depart a decade-long career, is causing me some of the most immense emotional turmoil I can recall.  It seems ridiculous to me that I would be so upset by a decision that a) I made myself and b) I am excited about, but every seed of doubt that has ever filtered into my mind about doing this is rearing its ugly head right now.  I am feeling attacked by Satan in every place in my life that he knows I can be vulnerable.  My marriage, my self-esteem, my intelligence, my desire to be loved and safe and comfortable.  It seems like the easy road would be to just hit the delete button on about the last 6 months.  Maybe 8.  Let's wipe out 2012 and go back to December and let me go get on that airplane to Vegas with Lynn before I had been approved by the church to pursue ordination.  Because then, I would not have submitted my intent to matriculate letter that I received from Austin Seminary the following week  Adam would not have moved in April to Austin and I would not be sitting here in my 987 sq ft apartment crying while I write this post about how ridiculous it all seems.

Have I totally lost my mind?  Did I hear God's voice clearly enough as I discerned this call?  Was I supposed to minister to people in Dallas, at SWA, or in some other capacity of my suburban existence?  Why in the world did I walk away from the people and the perks that I had right in front of me?  Why is it that "everyone else" seems to be able to live out their lives in ways that seem so much easier than me?  I know academically and spiritually that Jesus did not call Christians to an easy existence, but I'm pretty sure I could have ministered to others just fine while living in Plano and working at Southwest.

My heart is grieving for the loss of friendships.  I know they are still there, but I am not physically there.  I miss the camaraderie.  I miss the laughs.  I miss people who know me and hug me and have a love/hate relationship with all of my quirks.  I miss evening walks with Lynn.  I miss ridiculous humor from Tracey.  I miss singing across the cube as Kris and I joke around.  I miss coffee dates with Tammy.  I miss listening to Rishi chew in the cube next to me.  I miss laughing with Ang about the chaos of children, work, and life.  There are so many more, but too numerous to list.  I miss my life.  I feel like I am living a part in a movie.  It's not a bad movie, just not the story-of-my-life movie.  Or if it is, there was this really abrupt scene change that I wasn't quite prepared for, even though I had seen all the previews.

I know it will get better.  I know I will make new friends.  I can know all of this in my heart and still cry and grieve.  Because I truly believe that even when Jesus told his followers to "Take up your cross and follow me," he knew that they would miss their families.  He knew that Simon would miss the smell of fish on the boat, the feel of the nets running through his hands.  He knew that they were good at their trades too, but it didn't matter.  Jesus had a bigger plan for how they would be spending their days.  And it wasn't necessarily the easy road.  I am guessing the disciples looked at others as they were following Jesus and thought, "Why can't I be more like that guy?  He is going to bed, tucked away with his family, and doesn't have to come over here and stay awake all night like Jesus has asked me to."  But in the end, Jesus gave them so much more than any profession or family or friend could give them.  And that is what my hope is based on.  And even when I don't feel that way, I know the victory has already been won and the Holy Spirit will carry me through these dark days.  I know the true truth.  The reality of a risen Christ, who prepares a place for me someday.  I just wonder if it will have tan leather seats and pictures of my friends and 737s on the wall.