Where is this going this time?

I moved last weekend. I signed a fifteen-month lease on a beautiful new apartment. It’s in the center of town, literally walking distance from…well, everything. Including, being directly across the street from Starbucks. That in itself should be enough. I mean, what else could a writer possibly want? There’s also a Target next door, located about fifty feet outside the complex’s main entrance. In the last week, I have spent way too much money there.

The apartment is gorgeous. All white and beige inside, with pristine carpet, and sparkling appliances, new cabinetry and countertops, track-lighting in the kitchen and dining areas, and a French door leading to a third floor patio with a poolside view. There’s even a built-in desk, complete with shelving—an instant home office neatly niched into an out-of-the-way cranny. Could this be more perfect for a writer?

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If that’s not enough, the complex has a 24 hour fitness center. I have become a regular there, hitting the treadmill twice a day. I have spent the last week, wandering around in shock that this is my home. And, then my next question is…now what?

There’s no furniture in our living room. My roommate and I have to buy couches. But among the things we have to buy for the apartment, couches are near the bottom of the list. So, we just don’t use our living room. It’s still as empty as the moment we moved in. I somehow feel like that’s a metaphor for my life right now. Big, beautiful, possibilities, yet unfulfilled.

My question these last few days, has been…now what? Where is all this going? I’m in something of a new town. My writing is enough to pay the bills, but, it needs new life, fresh energy. So, here I am in the big, beautiful place, and now what?  That’s what I have been asking God. It’s like that Scripture about “enlarging your tent.” My tent has definitely been enlarged. But, comparatively, it’s empty. I don’t even know how to fill it.

I don’t know where this is going. I don’t know what’s going to happen with me over the next year. It’s an odd feeling. What is this all about?

There’s a feeling of elation, freefalling into the next season of my life. I don’t know what’s about to happen, I’m just hanging on for the ride. Then there’s something of a feeling of fear…will I be enough? Can I handle this next part? Will I recognize the steps I need to take? Or will I fizzle? And then in another way, there’s a feeling of gratefulness. I can’t believe I have this place, and I can’t believe that I’m in a place where my writing can pay for it. Then, there’s a feeling of anxiety, dread. It’s as if any moment, the proverbial “other shoe” is going to drop.

Where is this going? And the answer God keeps reminding me is…Trust.


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