I took my purse, cell phone, the house keys, my iPod, and three outfits, including the one I left the house with. Little did I know that these few things would be the only things I owned for the next few weeks. As the day went, the sun embraced the sky with an ironic presence of charm and allure, unknowing of the following day, which would erupt in the madness of an extraordinary disaster. The strange assortment of the music on my iPod kept me comforted through many excruciating hours on the road as I traveled from one anonymous city to another. As I finally settled into the tremulous metropolis of Atlanta, I was constantly reminded of how my life had diminished into the things I carried. In the days following my escape, I remember thinking that I had lost everything; although I had taken CD’s and the most important of my material items, I had left behind some of the most memorable possessions one could ever have. I immediately thought of all the trophies and plaques I had received. I had images of them floating away in the intensifying toxic waters of the Big Easy. I pictured my baby photos and music compositions dissolving into the waste that had infiltrated my home. I had lost everything! But in the months following Hurricane Katrina, I realized that all I was and all that I would ever become lay within me; I discovered that the things I carried weren’t things after all—they were emotions, memories, and dreams. They were the types of things that grew into me, and I into them. Life had abruptly begun for me and the things I carried would transform me forever.
[ Read "Way to Freedom" HERE ] I had a conversation with myself last night, re-imagining a previous conversation I had with God about 2 years ago. God was like, "I'm gonna sit here with my arms wide open, while you seek refuge in people and things that were not meant to shelter you, and I'll wait patiently for you to come back home to me." That moment with God 2 years ago was the beginning of my real relationship with God and my relationship with my purpose(s). As I watched things fall into place, in awe of the matchless moves of the universe pushing me toward my purpose (or myself), I never quite committed to the purpose; I never quite committed to God. I walked around God--around my purpose, around myself--but never stepped in. Maybe this is you. This has been your life for years...going in and out of the revolving door that is God's arms. And God still loves, even when you're outside of the door. God still loves, even when your head is pressed