25 has arrived and it makes me stop and look around.
I’m not where I imagined I would be at 25 years old, but who is?
To be honest, where I imagined I would be at 25 has changed so much over the years anyways. It’s hard to reach a goal when it is always changing. But change is good. It means I have changed. It means I have been changed. It means that in the great story of our lives, the Author has seen fit to allow me to undergo what they call “character development”. And for that I am very thankful.
24 saw me timidly step onto an Argentina-bound airplane, tears in my eyes for what I left behind, but a steady peace in my heart because I knew God had said “go”.
So I went. I spent 10 months in a foreign land. I felt like an impostor trying to teach English (who knows how to form the Subjunctive anyways?), I bumbled and mimed my way through 10 months of immersive Spanish learning, the 6 of which i felt like a mute, like a child who needed help to do anything. But I caught on eventually.
I got used to Argentine culture and the way of life, and then I left.
The 10 months had dichotomously flown by, but yet dragged on for a seeming eternity.
Providence led me back home safe and sound, back to my hometown, back to my old life.
I was never so glad to see Centralia.
I reeled and staggered, shell-shocked by the fact that I was home. The weirdest part was the normality of it all. Reverse culture-shock is a weird thing
Over two months have passed and I am settling back into life.
25 now sees me back to how everything was before; Fiddlers, Calvary Chapel, Saturday night Bible Study., etc. The strange paradox of being the a different person in the place where you were before you changed is hard to explain.
It’s easy to forget sometimes that you’ve changed. Others it is glaringly obvious.
And so I adjust again to normal, and fight complacency and the tendency to regress to the old me with everything I have.
It can be hard to go back to the old land and be a new person. It can feel like I’ve not moved forward at all. I can feel like a failure.
But as I survey the past and see clearly the divinely placed bumps, the strategic curves, the sudden left turns that the Roadmaker designed for me, are perfect, and have led me to be here, now.
I look toward the misty future, wonder and worry about what it holds.
But the next 25 are in the Roadmaker’s hands. His paths for me are unique, and they are true, for He is true.
And as I cry for Him to lead me, to use me, to change me into who He wants me to be, the Roadmaker tells me the same thing He told Matthew, Peter, Andrew, James, and all who would be His disciples:
So I can’t tell you where the next 25 will take me, but as long as He is the one leading me, I will follow Him there.