Can't sit when I got no chair. When all I have are boxes and bags, can't sit. When the path is straight before me and He wraps His right hand around my feet, can't sit. I cannot sit when He's told me to stand, I cannot be still when His Spirit says move. Can't do it. Can't sit.
Can't sit so I pack, luggage never unpacked, things that have no place to be, the useful and the useless dragged around the world, without it I'd be free.
Can't sit so I wander, around my family's house, back and forth across the state, through a garden with tomatoes ripe, and almost always late.
Can't sit so I dream, of the ruin that awaits me, of the joy that's set before, of airports and airplanes and hotels and clutter and movement and sleeplessness and excitement and the day when I say 'can't sit' no more.
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One more day.
One more day of my mum sitting in the corner knitting, one more day of dad puttering around the garden, one more day of my brothers' raucous laughter and my sister's listening ear. One more day of being able to call friends that have known me for longer than a year on the phone. One more day of soupy green NC summer and food that never makes me sick. One more day of a toilet that I can sit on and water that I can drink from the tap. One more day of comfort and ease surrounded by encouragement and friendship. Only one more. Then a year's worth of furious movement and stress that makes my heart and stomach swim in anticipation.
The truth is I'm a coward.
I dare not look too far ahead for fear that I'll end up in the belly of a fish. I am excited and I am afraid. I want to return, put my back to the plow, greet the horizon once more with purpose and power, but I sink when I look again at all I leave behind. Looking forward gives me no peace, looking behind fills me with grief... My eyes are in all the wrong places, I know where I ought to be looking.
Keep your eyes on Him, the author and perfecter of our faith... Consider Him... so that you won't grow weary and lose heart.
Alright. Maybe I wasn't meant to sit.
