On a horse with no name

Sitting among giant cacti. Watching the sun set. The silence almost otherwordly.

I hear some sort of bird flying by. It seems so out of place, as if it had lost its way in the world and ended up in the wrong landscape. I can’t see him but his song sounds familiar.

I’d swear it was a seagull. 

Jonathan.

But, Jonathan doesn’t live in this desert place surrounded by rocks and hills and dirt. He thrives among the waves and sand. So, I know it can’t be him.  It can’t be the friend that I would feed and coax and twirl with as my husband laughed at my childishness.  

But could it be? His song is slightly weaker…or smaller. I don’t know. 

Similar.

But different.

My only explanation is that God created a new creature in the desert that is a shadow of his ocean brother.  They sing similar songs but soar in different worlds. They have the same purpose but stretch their wings in very different atmospheres. 

I feel as if he is me.

A shadow of myself. 

In a different world.  

A different atmosphere. 

With a familiar purpose 

But an unfamiliar life.

I feel weaker…smaller…invisible…but I’m here.  I didn’t expect to be.  Here – I mean. In this dry, rocky and  uncomfortable place. I didn’t see the change coming but I doubt it would have made a difference.  The truth is that it just is.  The question is, do I trust the one who holds both places together? Do I trust that He will teach me to fly again…even here? Do I trust that He will teach me how to survive and, maybe, thrive with a louder song and a deeper call? 

I want to.  I need to. But some days I just don’t.  Some days I want to lay in the desert and let the sand engulf me until I blow away in the wind. But today, this brother of Jonathan has reminded me that love and beauty and hope live. I may not be where I feel I belong, but I am here…in this new place…and my options are sing or die. I have too much to live for to die.  Yes…this world is not what I’ve known. It’s not even what I want.  It’s hard and lonely. It’s dull and beige and lacking the joy I remember and crave.  But, there is always the promise of new life when the creator is involved. And I have to believe he is involved.  I have to remember.  I have to stand on the truths that I’ve always believed and seen and experienced. The creator is here.  In this place. With me.  When I don’t want to be here.  So…

There is hope. 

There is life.

There is love. 

There is a song.