It's 5:30 am and already in the low 70's.
The air is moist and misty and I am sitting on my porch watching our herd of oryx gradually graze their way across my front yard.
I had never seen or heard of Scimitar Oryx before I started this safari adventure. Originally from north Africa, they are extinct in the wild. However there are a few thousand in captivity and we have 9 of them. They are graceful and elegant and have beautifully curved horns.
The most recent addition to the herd, a 5 day old calf, is curled up into an almost invisible ball, warmed by the feeble fingers of the morning sun while its mother tugs at the grass nearby. The mother is moving farther down the sloping field and, uncomfortable with the distance growing between them, she makes a faint grunting sound and instantly the calf is up. Unsteady at first, he gathers his balance and turns and sprints toward his mother; stopping several feet behind her. She continues her descent and after a minute or two, the calf runs a short distance, again stopping short of its mother. I see the mother turn her head and although I can't hear it, the reaction of the calf assures me that she has once again instructed him to keep moving. This dance continues until they have moved out of sight.
And I see myself in that little calf.
At times I want to just curl up into a ball, nestled at the feet of My Savior. Comfortable and secure under His loving gaze.
Hidden from tasks that stretch me physically and mentally and wear at my emotions. Protected by isolation from the hurt of unkindness and the ache of loneliness. Safe from the anxiety of new and the gnawing desire for the past.
And I am at that place... once again.
It has been a year since we decided to pack up what we had left after the Great Purge (aka moving from our home of 25 years), stack it all into a couple of trucks (THANK YOU McCurdys!), drive 1200 miles (Yes, I drove the big ole Penske truck for 2 days), and start a new job, in a cabin, on a safari, in a new state that feels a bit like a new country.
It has been wonderful and a bit terrifying and not at all where I thought I would be when I turned 53 years old. But here I am.
And I would be less than truthful if I said that I never had a doubt, or a momentary panic, or the pull toward the familiar.
My Heavenly Father chose to nudge me out of my comfortable position and put me on a path that led me to this place. His perfect timing. His perfect will.
There was nothing veiled and everything clear as He orchestrated this life changing event.
I am entirely grateful for the opportunity to see My Father's love for me so obviously in action.
It. Was. Awesome.
So a year later, as I watch that little calf struggle to keep up with his mother, I realize that I am once again wanting to stay curled up in my new comfortable place.
My new normal is humming along and while there is much lacking, it is familiar and easy.
My social circle is incredibly small.
My calendar wide open.
My days dictated by the "to do" list of the day before.
Don't get me wrong. I have been stretched and pulled as I navigate this job and house and state.
And I cried out to my Abba Father, more than once, to hold me tight as feelings of inadequacy, discontent and loneliness gathered and threatened to pull into the darkness that is depression.
But much like that oryx momma, my Father quietly reminds me that He is close by.
And He will lead, and direct me. He is faithful. He is good.
He loves me.
And, once again, He is calling me to move on.
To step out of this complacent comfort and stretch myself anew.
And while I am not fearful, I am reticent.
I would rather meet with one of my familiar lunch buddies (you know who you are... I miss you all!!) than push through the awkwardness of new friendships.
I rather enjoy the anonymity of the pew on the left, 7 up from the back, in the big church.
The simplicity of an empty calendar; days that so closely resemble the ones before.
I really don't even know what specifically He is calling me to do.
But I know He wants more. More of my interest, my time, my life.
And, in my continual attempt to understand how to glorify Him, I will obey.
By His grace and through His power,
And I will start by embracing this day.
Maybe I will sit in a new pew.
Or sign up for a Bible study.
Or help with VBS.
Or talk to someone who didn't speak to me first.
And once again I will look at the cross and realize that no sacrifice, nothing He could ask me to give up or take on could come close to the love He revealed when He died for me on that cross.
And I will remember to thank Him, once again.
"Jesus Christ, I think upon Your sacrifice
You became nothing, poured out to death
Many times I've wondered at Your gift of life
And I'm in that place once again..."
- Matt Redman
