The truth is, I hate doing stuff.
As the youngest child (who was mostly spoiled), I didn’t need to do much. I didn’t need to navigate the world on my own or figure things out by myself, leaving a path of trial and error, cuts and bruises. I had an older sister, mum and dad who paved the way with their actions and wisdom.
When home stuff got messy, I coped by removing myself from it, not letting the reality stick and escaping instead into my own bubble. My own world, my own space… free from things I didn’t want to or know how to deal with. It is here that I feel most safe.
God met me there. He sat with me, spent afternoons in the park with me, and showed me the wonder of the sky. I could stay here forever.
But – he calls me beyond.
“Trust me,” he says.
I look at him with tears in my eyes,
“God, you know how hard this is for me.”
He offers his hand and waits.
I’ve always struggled with feeling incapable, inexperienced, incompetent, weak. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought: I can’t do this. And I’m not even talking about big, grand things – I’m talking about ‘normal’, ordinary things. So much of the time, I lack the courage to even try. I’d rather hide in my room and just lie on my bed.
Yet if you asked me “what I want to do with my life”, I will tell you a very crazy dream. Something so overwhelming that it freaks me out each time I think about it. Don’t ask me how I’m going to get there because the answer is I don’t know!
“God, you know that I hate doing stuff… I don’t want to. I don’t want to step out there. It’s scary. I’d rather stay here.”