the race.

I’ve been thinking about the spaces we push ourselves through, that remind us of how far we have come, and how much more we are going. I would be lying to say if endurance were easy, yet I don’t think that is news for everybody. There is always a cost associated with running the race, with whatever the eventual outcome will be, and there will always be grief to find us in the aftermath. 

I find myself looking behind myself a lot wondering more about what could have been and what perhaps should/ought to have been. As the years go by, I’ve learnt to take myself less seriously. It is not to say that I have given up on the goals I have set out for myself when I first came to this country, but more so I have intentionally set space in the margins for God to have His way. 

My life did not end up the way I had planned for it to be, and I have had experiences that I never imagined I would have, but it’s not to say that all of it was bad, but far from it. Everything was required, for me to step into the spaces I inhabit now. We cannot run before we learn to walk, and I made that mistake years ago of believing that anything was possible, that I could even fly before my feet had ever left the ground. 

But the good that has come through the tough spaces, the wrestle is something I will probably never forget. That His timing is always perfect and that His word is true. I have in many ways learnt to unbundle my trauma through faith, even though I know it has been the reverse for many. I take that with gratitude, because it seems in this day and age, that is a foreign of a concept as everlasting joy.