Just weeks after graduating from college, I packed up my Chevy Blazer with all my new big girl working clothes and drove through a snowstorm from my small hometown in Central New York to the busy suburbs of Philadelphia. It was a white-knuckle trip through the mountains, crawling along behind semis as we passed car after car in the ditch.
I was on my way to start my new life. A new wardrobe. A new job. A new state. It was the biggest risk of my life. I didn't know anyone where I was moving. I didn't even have an apartment yet. I still wasn't even entirely clear on what my new job actually was.
But there was no turning back. I had always wanted to get out of my small town. This was my chance, and I had jumped at it. Come what may, I was determined that I would succeed.
It was absolutely terrifying and totally exhilarating all at once.
That's what it feels like when you take a risk. You leap off the cliff and plunge into the unknown, letting go of everything except for hope. Hope that there is deep, saving water at the bottom, not just jagged rocks.
The winding paths of life have brought me to a cliff again.
I stand here, contemplating and wondering if I should take another leap. I wonder if there is deep water below this cliff or if I will land broken amongst rocks of failure and bad decisions. I try to peer over the edge, but the darkness doesn't reveal it's truth.
This time, I'm not going alone. It's not just me and my come what may attitude. This time, I have to think about my family.
Family makes taking risks so much harder. Failure is almost crippling when you are a parent. We all strive to provide security and stability for our children. The last thing we want is to fail and cause them pain.
So I stand in hesitation, peering over. Wondering. Over-thinking. Chewing my nails and biting my lip.
I'm grateful, that in the end, I have the safety net of knowing that all things work together when we trust that God holds us all in His hands.
Leap or stay: we will be held in His hands.