From the catbird seat

"Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you." Psalm 116:7

Before I went to Kenya, I had a distinct moment of clarity where I realized that I tend to treat life's happy things and challenges as if I were constantly climbing mountains. I climbclimbclimbclimb to get to the vista, and once I'm there, I breathe in the view for a second or two, then immediately begin thinking of how I'll get down. This ephiphany was really a gift from God - cognizant of my tendency, I spent my two weeks in Kenya sitting cross-legged at the top of my proverbial mountain. What I saw in my present-ness was amazing - life changing stuff.

I don't have many feelings of deja vu, but as I wrap up my last two days of work and get ready to head into my new adventure at the zoo, I felt that same nagging feeling creep up on me. It's become glaringly obvious that if I don't slow down, I will be in danger of completely missing this blessing.


In the spirit of absolute disclosure, I love change but fight it with every fiber of my being. This crosses over into good, exciting things too. The frightened child in me tends to look for the bottom to fall out. As I get older, I'm starting to believe this is genetically inevitable (worrying being a family trait and all) but I'm still fighting it with all I have. It's not always easy, but the more I've come to understand God, the more I see that this is just not the way to live.

I'm lucky. I'll have an extended vacation in Florida and although it's not a mountain, I can stand at the water's edge and look around a bit. I can look back at the blessings and give thanks. I can look forward at the adventure and be excited. But most importantly, I can sit in the present and look around.