It's Five Minute Friday - a web-wide gathering of bloggers, writing on a one-word prompt for five minutes, no stopping, no editing. Click here to learn more, and to join in!
I think of two different things when I hear that word:
First, I think of soaring, high above this world and its troubles and emotions and pettiness, like an eagle or some other great creature.
But then I think of a different sort of flight. The running away kind. And that's the kind I've been doing lately. You see, I'm afraid, and I didn't even realize it. I don't mind tackling difficult tasks - but I only tackle manageable difficult tasks. I won't set myself up for failure or disappointment, or anything that looks like it might lead to it. And the path lovingly set before me led into a dark valley, filled with the possibility of both of those - but I chose to climb a nearby mountain, instead. Better a day-lit toil to a peak with a view than a blind trek of faith into a darkness fraught with the Unknown.
It's funny, because I still chose a difficult path. Knitting design. No college degree for me, I'm going to prove that I can do this. And, to some extent, I have. I've gotten to travel, explore, and learn - it's something I enjoy, something I believe that I'm good at, something that I can see God's hand in. But as much of an uphill climb as it's been, it's also been the easy way out.
I finished reading A Million Little Ways with the self-satisfied feeling that I had already found my art. Except that my art hasn't been going well - doors keep opening, and I walk through them only to find myself standing in closet, confused and blinded by the sudden darkness. Discussing that with my sweet husband (who has not read the book - yet) he suggested that perhaps the knitting was distracting me from something else that I was supposed to be doing, something else that I was also gifted in but was perhaps avoiding for some reason. And it struck me - because he's absolutely right.
Because there's another gift that I believe I've been given - except that I'm afraid to open the box. Because that one comes with vulnerability, the necessity of criticism, the possibility of painful rejection... and the opportunity to glorify God far more explicitly than I can through knitting.
I don't know where my path is leading me - it disappears just ahead around a bend and behind a clump of trees - but I have a peace about walking around it, and I'm going to add a pretty lined journal and a new pen to the supplies I always carry, even if it means leaving some of my yarn (and security) behind.