Today I begin to share with you the draft of my memoir, book, journal, diary — whatever it will eventually be called. I will post “installments” from my writings from time to time, and welcome any and all comments, advice, criticism.
December 2000. It was a bitter cold December morning. I shivered as I boarded the plane, but not because of bone chilling air — definitely not from a fear of flying. The weather posed no threat, even though its harshness grazed the skin and pricked at the eyes. The day had dawned clear, and the sky was crystalline blue. The trip itself had my anxiety at its peak. I was embarking on a journey like none I had ever experienced in my lifetime. Was I ready? From the standpoint of preparations, yes, I was ready — my bags were packed, my ticket in hand, and my plane ready to take off. But did my bags and my hands hold everything I needed for this trip? Did my ticket take me where I really wanted to go? In spite of fears rooted in family history – a story I didn’t want to confront, my journey was becoming as clear as the day itself. No other itinerary was possible.
As I flew toward home in Oregon and all things comfortable, I pondered the events leading up to this trip. So far, it had not been an easy one. Several weeks of anguish had pointed me in the direction of truth. It has been said “the truth will set you free” (John 8:32), and I clung to the hope this was true. In many ways, however, I felt that perhaps the truth was about to imprison me. My plans were indefinite from this point forward. No detailed, step-by-step recipe showed me where I’d be in a day, a week, a month, maybe in years. One thing was for certain. I’d be home by nightfall and in the safe and loving arms of my husband. That knowledge set another set of thoughts into motion.
I longed for affirmation that I had made the right decision in starting this trip. Could I complete it successfully? Would I destroy everything we had built over the last 20 years? I had a wonderful husband, a career I enjoyed and a home that I cherished. We loved traveling and searching through antique stores to find that treasured item. We loved music and a night out at the symphony. We were both involved in church activities that required time commitments. What was I thinking? What I was about to do could change all of this in the twinkling of an eye! So much preparation lay ahead once home, not to mention the distance I had to go – a distance not measured in miles.
I had always believed in the power of prayer, but viewed it as something I did when others were in need. Did I need to engage in more personal prayer? So on that December morning, as the plane soared through the underlayer of the firmament, I asked God for strength, courage, guidance, and yes, affirmation. That was all I could do. I knew my husband and best friend would stand beside me through anything, but this wasn’t going to be easy for either of us, or so I thought. Little did I know what was in store over the next several months.
[Copyright 2011 by Sherrey Meyer. All rights reserved.]