When I was young, I had an Epoch Monster Panic game. I traverse the castle full of monsters to get into a pyramid where I can get a lot of points. If I stay too long at the entrance (seven seconds to be exact), Big Foot will give me a kick.
For the longest time after my wife went to heaven, I lived like a hermit. Not the cool, wise kind who dispenses life advice from a mountain cave – more like the slippers-wearing, sunlight-hiding, physical meeting-avoiding type. I try to tell myself I was “recharging.” I called it “resting in the Lord.” In truth, I was hiding. From everything. From everyone.
After three broken caster wheels, the rest turned into restlessness, the stillness turned stale, the peace turns into routine. God’s gentle nudge grew into a not-so-subtle push: “You have rested for too long.” It hit me between the eyes (and out of my comfy chair). I realized it was time – to step outside, meet people, shake off the cobwebs, and, you know, actually live.
It is not going to be easy. I no longer blog every day. I no longer workout three times a day. It is going to take quite a bit of efforts to overcome the inertia.
To those who invited, who waited patiently, who refused to let me drift too far into ocean: Thank you. Really. You reminded me that life with others—messy, unpredictable, beautiful – is exactly where God wants me to be.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to decide which “party” to go. I want to get out before I get a kick at the backside. Pray for me.
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