I have a fear of flying.
Like a really big fear of flying.
You might call it a panic.
My mom will remember a day years ago when I called her from the airport refusing to get on the plane that was supposed to take me back to school. She unapologetically bought herself a ticket, forced me on the plane, and flew to Lubbock right next to me.
While I haven’t had another full blown anxiety attack on the jetway since, it never gets easier.
So it’s a little ironic that I write this entry from a tiny economy seat on a flight headed to Mexico.
So...I thought I would final try to put into words the question I’ve answered a lot recently.
How did I end up here, right now?
This wasn’t part of my life plan and it’s certainly not comfortable or easy for me.
When we arrived back in the US, I was in full take control, project mode. I researched neighborhoods and schools, I gathered information about soccer programs, tennis coaches, and the best Mexican restaurants in our area (I’m still researching that one). Career wise, I updated my resume, reconnected with old colleagues, and interviewed with hospitals.
I really thought I had it under control...until I admitted I didn’t.
I’d been in talks with a large prestigious hospital group. I’d met with the hospital ceo, the specialty physicians, and toured my future clinic. On paper, it was exactly the right thing. I would have my private practice with autonomy but support from the hospital for the business side. I’d have a built in referral team, marketing team, and staff. I’d come home with a more than comfortable paycheck.
So I was surprised and initially dismissive by the growing ache in my heart as I sat down to agree to final terms and sign the paperwork. “I’m just nervous,” I told myself.
But over the course of an afternoon at the clinic that ache grew into a full blown panic, one that brought back the same feelings of that refused flight.
Thoughts were hitting me so hard
-what am I doing?
-why am I here?
-this isn’t right.
I made up a reason to need more time and left. I broke down in tears-partly angry at myself, partly confused, and partly relieved. Over the next week I wrestled with all the feelings.
The thing that kept repeating was
“there is something more.”
In the midst of my personal crisis, I attended a conference where I heard speaker after speaker talk about being called by God. They talked about letting go of our plan and following Gods plan, of dreaming Gods dreams, not our own.
My favorite truth (and now daily inner mantra) is the realization that we can’t be brave and safe at the same time.
Think about that.
I don’t necessarily mean physical safety, although it certainly applies there. I mean the feeling of comfort and safety in my life.
I want to be brave, I think we all do.
But being brave requires having something to be brave about.
A knight who is well trained isn’t really brave until he steps out to fight the dragon.
The most talented singer isn’t really brave until she performs on a stage.
I am not really brave when I accept the easy life even though I know deep down that’s not who I am.
I must be willing to step out and take risks in order to be brave.
And so, I said no.
I said no to the high paying, move-in ready job that wasn’t me.
And in total free fall, with no plan, I faced my anxiety.
But God knew. He always knew.
I am loved and supported by some amazing people who were willing to walk with me as I follow God one step at a time. It’s more than I could have imagined and I honestly have no idea what’s ahead.
Just in the past few weeks, I have served with a homeless clinic in the city, taught health education at a prostitution center empowering women to make life change, and brainstormed with public health researchers about human trafficking prevention.
And today, I pushed myself on a plane to encourage and learn from some of our international church family.
I’ve had a few encounters with some physicians from my “old life” where I got the cordial smile “oh that’s interesting” but the eyes that said “she went off the deep end and now she’s one of those crazy Jesus people.” (maybe one person even actually said those words).
I admit it. It’s weird. It’s not normal. I never thought I would here.
But every day...
I am so grateful I said no. And I am so excited for what God has in store.
I believe that
every
single
one
of us have a place in God’s dream.
Some of us ARE meant to be clinic doctors. Some are meant to teachers, or mentors, or encouragers, or advocates. The hard part isn’t usually figuring out what our gift is. Most of us know that deep inside already. The part that requires being brave is DOING it.
Getting on the plane when we don’t think we can.
Following the path that isn’t part of our original plan.
Make the decision that’s right and not always easy.
So, long story longer, that’s how I ended up where I am.
I haven’t done it all with grace, and I’m sure I have many stumbles ahead. But i know that if I focus on the truth, God will do the rest.
Live justly.
Love mercy.
Walk humbly.
