That (the title) is what I feel on the inside lately.
Friday I had a mental breakdown and just shut down.
I was in the middle of working out with Melvin and I stopped. I just quit. In the middle of routine, I put my equipment up, grabbed my ID, phone, and lip gloss and said 'Peace out.' He asked what was wrong, but I couldn't even explain it. I drove home, ate lunch, and took a much needed nap on my couch.
I woke up and texted AnCharlene and told her I wouldn't be coming down to CSC Retreat that night. I wasn't social, I wasn't functioning, and I certainly wasn't in the mood for attention.
I hung up, sat in the quiet and stared out my patio doors at the setting sun's rays.
I felt mad and sad and depressed and frustrated and confused and mundane and pensive. And I really had no idea why.
And then it happened.
I walked into my room and finally picked up a book that's been on my nightstand for the past 4 months.
Donald Miller's 'A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.'
Amelia lent it to me in June when she came to stay the week with me at the Dees' house. She said it would change my life. I assured her I would read it. She and J. Crowe repeatedly stressed that it sounded like something I was looking for. I nodded, took it, put it in my bag, and brought it back to Knoxville with me, placing it at the top of the stack of books on my nightstand. Even when I moved, it was packed away in a box, only to be unpacked at my new apartment, and placed back in the same evident spot. A spot in which I would see it laying every night before bed, dismissing it, thinking I wasn't emotionally or mentally ready to absorb it for all it had to offer. I mean, this was life-changing material according to all who'd read any of his works before.
Maybe I wasn't ready for a life change.
Until now.
So that late Friday afternoon, I picked it up for the first time since placing it there in August. I read the back of the jacket one more time, and opened the cover. And from page one, I was smitten.
These words were what I needed. His thoughts were what I'd been feeling for the past two weeks, let alone two+ years. He seemed to take everything inside me and put it on a piece of paper. And all of the longings and yearnings I couldn't even figure out I had, came spilling so quickly out of my heart that I didn't know what to make of it.
Why in the world hadn't I picked up this book before? Why in the world hadn't I ever read any of his books on my bookcase before now? Why was I so slow to get on the Donald Miller bandwagon? And why did I feel like I was suddenly driving it? I wanted all of what he had to say, whether I agreed with all of it or not. I wanted the challenge of his words and the realness of his stories. I wanted to absorb all his thoughts and use them to spark new ideas within me.
He's a pretty open thinker, and I like that.
I was completely engrossed with the telling of his risks and inciting incidents and hopes and fears and failures and triumphs.
I spent Friday night reading and watching Melvin sit on my couch and listen to me as I cried my heart out a little bit.
Saturday I slept late, waking up at 930am to a hot bath and a spirit that was already being renewed. It was a gorgeous blue fall day and I drove down to the Cherokee National Forest with my sunroof open and a new mix CD playing. I drove roads I hadn't traveled, and saw houses I didn't know existed. It was a good drive.
I sat around the fire and visited with friends. I listened to kids yell in delight in the distance. I wondered if my clothes would smell like bonfire smoke mixed with outdoor air, and mourned the loss of perfume-smell on my hair. And I loved every minute of it. We laughed loud. We made s'mores. And I had a hot dog, caught on fire multiple times in the campfire, blackened just the way I like, and I forgot about carcinogens and free range meat for a minute.
And that night I drove home. And it was a good day. I laid in bed and read more of my new favorite book.
And Sunday morning, I went to early service and spent the day with my windows open and Donald Miller in my lap. I couldn't get enough. I reread some of his stories, making sure to get the true meaning. And I realized I was in the perfect place for this book. At my messiest I was ready for it.
I think I would have benefited from it if I had chosen to read it before now, but I realized that God was using my messiness to change me.
I've felt stagnant. I've felt comfortable. And I've felt bored.
But I realized I need to change my story to change my life.
And that's what I'm going to do.
I'm going to take a risk and it's going to be grand.
