Fly Like a Kite and Pray Like Hell


Kathy and I took a trip to Chandler last week. On the drive back, Kathy asked, “ Okay, so can we talk about where you’re at with everything? Your deepest hopes and fears and dreams and feelings.”

She was talking about my move to Berkeley. I didn’t want to get into it because it’s easier to disconnect when something is not immediate, but it’s not my style to evade questions of this kind.

I told her I was getting more excited because the decision was made. The hard part was done. I had emotionally lived the weight of my decision when I was making it, now I could still listen for there to be a change, but mostly just knock out the steps from A to B.

We talked some more about how I was mentally preparing to be very intentional about building relationships and getting involved rather than the all-responsibility-no-fun mode in which I so often operate. Glad I was thinking in those terms, she continued to talk about how excited for me she was.

“Girlfriend, seminary is like no other place! You’re going to be challenged and surrounded by people who are serious about God. You’re going to meet so many solid people; people who love God, who will care about you and will want to know the real Brittani.”

I interrupted her. “That’s a deepest darkest fear.”

“What is?”

“What if it isn’t? What if I get there and it’s not any of those things?”

“Ah. See. No. I can see why you’d think so…because your experiences have made that scenario easier to believe, but Bud I’m tellin’ you, what you’re thinking and feeling…it’s a lie. I mean, we’re all broken and going to let each other down, I’m not saying there won’t be disappointments, but God’s gettin’ ready to do somethin’ big with you.”

Humph. “You think so?”

“I bet my life! And we know I don’t go throwin’ my life around.” A chuckle rose in my throat and then she said, “You ever flown a kite?”

I nodded.

“You know how, on it’s way up, it has to ride against the wind before it really takes off?”

I wasn’t sure if I did, but I nodded again anyway.

“I see your story like that, bud.” She moved her arm in an upward motion, as if meeting resistance, before letting it float up and off to one side, “Your life has been like riding against all this crap, all this junk pressing against you. And you have allowed God to use it to shape you, which is beautiful in and of itself, but now He is saying, ‘Ok, c’mon baby girl, let’s go. I know it’s scary, but it’s time to fly.’”

I bushed aside tears, sighing hope and doubt in the same breath. I want to believe she’s right.

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