an analogy

I get asked a lot these days where I am from.  My inclination is to say Virginia.  I was born and raised in Idaho, yes.  But I am a Richmonder.  My shaping, & formidable years were spent in the West End, the Fan, Shocko Bottom, Short Pump, VCU campus and the James River.  I became the woman I am today b/c of Richmond.  I love that place.  I "grew up" there. I was comfortable and happy there.

It broke my heart in pieces to leave.  I don't think I ever really wanted to leave, but I had to.  When I decided to embrace that reality, it was like God picked me up and gently placed me back down in another spot, exactly where He wanted me.  It seemed as if I didn't have a choice in the matter.  If you want to know the truth, I went a little bit kicking and screaming, even though it was my bright idea after all (or was it my idea?).

There is an image in my mind that I'd like to illustrate.  It goes something like this.  I'm sitting on a yellow chair.  I love the chair.  It's simple and wooden and sturdy.  It has this worn groove in the seat that fits me just right.  The paint is bright and cheerful.  I like how my body fits into the back of the chair.  I sit contentedly in it, looking on.

I watch as a whirlwind approaches.  It's full of glitter, Pocahontas leaves, and magic, dancing and swirling right in front of me, in the shape of a small cyclone.  It comes within arms length and suggests for me to step inside it and allow it to sweep me away.

I reach down and feel the chair with my hands.  It's smooth and solid. It's comforting.  I'm attached.  I know if I stand up and walk into the wind I risk losing the chair, but I want that pretty glitter all over me and the potential adventures that the wind offers me.  I hesitate, but I stand.  I turn around and look at the chair.  It occurs to me to pick the chair up and step into the whirlwind with it, so I do.  However, within moments, the chair is pulled from my grip.  I can't hold on to it and fly at the same time.

I experience great remorse and some regret.  As I am pulled through the air, I think about the past and wish I hadn't put my feet on that chair so much.  I wonder about the future and if somebody else will find my chair.  Will they appreciate it and love it as I did?  I miss that chair terribly and mourn its absence.  For a moment, I think my loss is greater than I can bear.  But then the wind starts to settle.

I realize am standing in the middle of a field of green and surrounded by more beauty and warmth than I imagined was possible.  I look up and see people and things drift down from the sky attached to white parachutes.  They all land in spots around me.  They're gifts from heaven.  I consider that it is a miracle.

I marvel at my Heavenly Father's love for me.

I walk. And then I run.

Time passes and then I smile.  And then I laugh.  I end up laughing and smiling as much as I ever did when I used to sit in that chair.  I consider that maybe I might even be happier than when I was sitting in that chair.

I begin to think about the chair less.  I don't forget about it, though.  I could never forget such a beautiful thing.  I silently send out my love and prayers daily to the chair that used to be mine and mean so much to me.

I look around at my gifts that were graciously delivered to me in this new place.  My heart beats hard, and my gratitude overflows.

Just look at them.