Tonight I passed on everything I poured my time, energy, and basically any spare resource I had into. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’ll be honest, I cried on my way home tonight.
It might seem strange that I would cry over something as “contrite” as passing off my admin roles. Anyone who’s known me for the last year knows that this job has caused an extreme amount of anxiety, stress, and problems this year. Why am I not relieved to be rid of it?
I’ve also decided not to be a part of camp this year. Again, for those who know me, this is what I’ve done for the past few summers. It has become a part of who I am, a camp counsellor. But I’m not returning, When I made the decision, I ripped off my rope bracelet that I’d worn for two years. It was a little over dramatic, I know, but I didn’t want to be reminded of what I was leaving behind.
After finishing today, I felt empty. I literally felt as though I had given everything I had, and gotten nothing back (which isn’t completely true). I also felt like I was giving away everything I had identified myself with. As much as we say our identity is found in God and not in what we do, it can be so hard to separate the two sometimes. I find this especially hard when I’m serving in some capacity. The lines begin to become blurred because the things I am doing are for a good reason – but they do not define who I am. It’s just easier sometimes to find solace in being the job, instead of being the person who does the job.
It took me a while to figure out why I was having so much trouble with letting go this time, but it dawned on me when I was driving home (I always seem to have epiphanies when I’m driving). I’m afraid.
Not afraid of another car hitting mine and dying, I’m afraid of what this summer and what next year will look like. All too many times (ESPECIALLY this year), God has taken what I thought was going to happen, and flipped the tables to show me a different path. You’d think I would learn to trust, but I’m strugglebussing here.
This summer is like an open book, blank pages. So is next year. I mean, I know I have classes, but I don’t know what I’m doing outside of it. And I hate not knowing what’s coming. I plan out my time to a T. I know I need a break, but not knowing is hard.
All semester I’ve been hearing the whispering voice of God asking me the same question: “Do you trust me?” Sometimes is a gentle whisper as I read a book, sometimes it’s a roaring lion as I wait for the train. But all the while He is asking me. It’s scary when you lose your “security blanket”, but I know (I just have to keep reminding myself) that God is sovereign. he is in control.
His plan is bigger than mine.
The day is here, the time has come to sing a new song
It’s very clear, I must move on and sing a new song
It will define who I become, this new song
So show me how to sing along to this new song
Going there means leaving here
Saying yes means saying no
Moving on means letting go of what is sure