What the hell am I doing?

Since no one (I think) in my immediate faith community reads this, I think it’s safe to post this here.

We are leaving Chicago. We are leaving Chicago? We are leaving Chicago!! We are leaving??!!??

It’s so difficult to find the right punctuation…

What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Why am I being led this direction? I bounce back and forth between a quiet conviction and peace and a devastating heartbreak and even resentment. I am too attached to this place, this city, even this climate. I leave a land of 70-degree summer (well, at least until global warming fries us all) and snow for a place of heat humidity and 60-degree winters.

I jump ahead, already constructing my plan for returning: “Okay, in seven years I will do this…” But then I realize that in seven years my daughter will be in the middle of high school, and all the drama (trauma) that accompanies those years. I have a halting realization that it’s more than likely I will never return to this city. This thought breaks my heart.

I trust that God somehow is aware of my petty feelings and desires and will lead me to new dreams that will hopefully match my new life in the south. That’s where my life is now, however: in “hopefully” and “somehow”. I am in the land of faith and promise, but neither of those things equal “guarantee”, except where God’s presence is concerned. He ultimately promises nothing but himself. No new gigs, no new songs, no new gear, no good schools, no soul-friends, no peace, no contentment.

Nothing is thrown in with the package. He is the package, the whole deal. I know I want so much more, and I know from past experiences that He will more than likely help me out in my small faith, but I want so badly to see the end of the story now. Instead, I only get the step right in front of me. The rest is shrouded in fog and mystery (which isn’t so bad, since God appears in fog and mystery in the scripture).

So I take a step.


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