(This post assumes the knowledge of my story that I shared last month. Here’s the link to Part One in case you’ve not read it.)
My flight takes off at 1 something and by the time you read this I’ll probably be sitting by myself in a random terminal at the airport, wondering why I’m about to leave the comfort of Nashville and my friends and family and Baja Burrito. Then I’ll tell myself that I’m being dramatic because it’s only for two months and some people move to Africa and don’t see their friends or families or Baja Burrito ever again.
It’s just that I’m simultaneously excited and afraid to go to England this summer.
Because while I’m enamored with cute accents and the thought of a Jesus-loving British Asian, the next two months would be much easier spent in my 1,200 square foot apartment in Hillsboro Village. Maybe I could get a part-time job at the ice cream store on 21st. Or write twice as many songs as I normally do. Or really start running and eating healthy food.
It’s funny because last year, almost to the day, I jumped on a plane to England and didn’t look back. I guess it’s because I didn’t realize my entire life was about to be broken and shifted and shaken and slowly restored. If I knew that God was going to have me share my story- that he was going to have me learn my story, really- I would’ve dug a hole in the ground and buried myself in it until he changed his mind. But I didn’t know what was going to happen, and he didn’t change his mind, so I left for the UK with a smile on my face and butterflies in my stomach.
And now, after eight I’m-going-to-die months, and two I’m-okay-now months, I’m going back to the place where it all began. It’s like a less intense version of The Shack except I’ve not received a letter from God in the mailbox yet.*
I don’t know.
I’m excited, I really am. But I’m also afraid.
And I have a ticket that cost $996 in my wallet so there’s no turning back.
Here’s to my next adventure in all its terrifying glory!
*Maybe God will write me a letter and cook me dinner and show me a beautiful garden and explain pain and suffering like he did in The Shack. I’d receive.