You Can’t Go Back the Way You Came

“How do you move on? You move on when your heart finally understands that there is no turning back.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

So you’ve stumbled into the Second Journey. Uh oh. What now?

TravelMercies2Should you go East? West? North or South? Right now it doesn’t matter. You’re not really lost, you see. You’ve just turned an incredible corner.

Unsettling? Yes. Earth-shattering? Sometimes it really is. You realize things you never knew before, and quite frankly, you’re not sure what to do with the information. Or maybe you know what to do, but your heart hurts. The pain of feeling stuck feels worse than any pain it’ll take you to change.

Two things are certain: 1) You’re not alone, and 2) You can’t go back the way you came.

Welcome to the Second Journey. 

Now watch for red flags and low-flying monkeys. If you’re wading through a little brain fog, that’s quite all right. But that rear view mirror? Pfft! It’s gotta go. “Objects in the rear view mirror may appear larger than they are.” So use the mirror sparingly when gauging how far you’ve come. Otherwise, we’ll bump into signposts, campsites, noisy distractions, and wooly little varmints trying to snatch our joy. Don’t let ’em. Keep checking here for soul food, spiritual first aid, and little heart gifts coming our way.

Because life’s a trip. The second half is nothing like the first. Not at all what we expected, but more than we imagined. It’s  about the buried treasure which is Christ IN you, my friend.

Vicki176x200My name is Vicki.

I’m not a sherpa, guide, hobbit, or sage. I can’t even read a map. I’m just a fellow wanderer tapping out thoughts on a broken keyboard – a gray-haired scribe with way too many adjectives. I should eat those adjectives; I’ve certainly eaten crow. Now don’t take me too seriously. I love a little humor. And if I go all mystical or melancholy on you, just reel me in. ‘Cause I do stuff like that.

The road feels long, but life is short.

I dream of us growing into the men and women we truly are, gathering here to tell our stories.  Takes courage to speak the truth; to admit where we ache, to share in the art of overcoming. When grace dispels the myths that pummeled our identity in the first place, we start seeing what lay hidden on the former journey. The story of who we really are is setting us free. . . free to flex these courage muscles, drop the debilitating mask, and lay our baggage down.

May I ask, where are you on the map of life?

Maybe you don’t trust maps; you’ve been hit too often with unexpected detours. The journey’s not been kind, and you’re annoyed I’d even ask. I get it. If you need a kind word, encouragement, companionship, or hope – please join me.

No weigh-station here – just a place of reckoning.

The Second Journey is teaching me to let go, reach forward, and stop looking back. It’s a beautiful place. Not easier, but far more authentic. We might wear makeup, but not the mask. Transparency is sometimes misunderstood, and not always appreciated. Expect to lose a few friends. But like someone told me, “When you realize some love your mask more than they love the real you, something has to change.”

To that end:

• We accept the detours that led us here.  Acceptance is key.

* We stop wrestling over things we can’t change, and rest in the God-mystery.

* We see ourselves “accepted in the Beloved” and stop beating ourselves up.

* We embrace personal scars, and on a good day, we might even risk showing them to someone.

Telling our stories can be transformative.  I struggle, still, but I’m all about the healing.

“I wouldn’t take nothing for my journey now.”

Beautiful Sojourner, welcome to your one and only Second Journey.

Your sister scribe,