“Lean in,” I heard. It was a simple, quiet statement. I knew what it meant instantly and it scared me. It meant:

\ Stretching a little farther in embracing (even the idea of) joy and hope for the future.

\ Releasing more fear that the bottom might drop out. Again.
\ Trusting that the worst is behind and the best is yet unfolding.

Lean in. Drink deep…

Our room faced the backyard and gave a wide-windowed view of a pomegranate tree they’d had for decades - bare, stripped-down limbs devoid of any fruit, flower, or leaf. It was the end of October, smack dab in the middle of fall, and the barrenness of that tree would go on to mock my own every single morning for months…

So what’s the last thing you heard? Do you remember? Have you finally stopped long enough yet during this quarantine to ask?

Resting is about more than jumping on a plane and getting away from it all or having a whole five minutes, hour, or day to oneself. You can be in either of those scenarios and many others and still not run into it. Why??

GUILT 

Good ol’ fashioned guilt. 

My routines were safe. They kept me secure in my mind even as they kept me fastened to my bronze-version life. I’d asked for this. I didn’t know it at the time of my asking. It didn’t sound like that at all. It sounded like groaning. Deep, unsatisfied, guttural groaning. And it wouldn’t stop. 

I wanted her to be wrong. I really did. But I knew she wasn’t. The problem was that, with the new video series I was about to release, if bad hair and bad breath was an issue, some of the intimate details of my life that I’d shared in those videos – details I’d ONLY share because I knew they would help someone – yeah…those were really going to be an issue.

I hate lies now. Like…A LOT. The worst lies, I find, are the ones that I don’t even know I’m telling. Those are the ones that have their root in the deep, dark and murky recesses of my insecurities, past rejections, and the total conviction that if I can’t see them, no one else can either. Until I unceremoniously find out they can.

Last year, I made a new friend. I love that because, as I’ve traveled this world more, I have come to value and have a greater appreciation for what that word really means. I don’t take it lightly. One day, as I was talking with God about why this person was in my life, I heard one thing: “…to teach him bravery”.

It’s January 21st – three weeks into the New Year – and as good a time as I can think of to do a quick check-up on the laser focus with which many of us charged into 2019. Distractions abound as if seemingly on assignment to keep you from keeping your foot on the gas but, if you’re like me, you won’t be lured. There’s a prize ahead and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to grab it with both hands!

I realized then that I had continued to hold onto one residual thought; one remnant feeling that was very effective at preventing me from moving forward with any sense of urgency. That residual remnant was this: that there was something to ‘go back’ to.