Lean In
“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…
When I Grow Up
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…
What Was the Last Thing?
So what’s the last thing you heard? Do you remember? Have you finally stopped long enough yet during this quarantine to ask?
365
Suddenly, I saw myself making my way thru LAX - prophetic, forward-moving, life-giving paintings in my right hand and Jermaine’s urn under my left arm - and heard:
‘NO EXTRA BAGGAGE’
boom loudly and clearly in my spirit. I knew what it meant instantly…
Burn the Boats!
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.