I've been back to Nottingham for the first time since leaving. I found it mildly amusing that I spent most of the time last year running to Sheffield to escape Nottingham, and this week I ran to Nottingham to escape Sheffield. Oh how the tables have turned. But they keep on turning. "Home" was hard, and thus I fled back once more to my university, earlier than people expected. No where is safe it seems. Alas. I run so much I could be easily mistaken for a coward...
I feel oddly incorporeal. In Sheffield I've made a silly but successful attempt at living without being. I float around having no impact, affecting nothing, influencing no one, satisfying my call to be here in the most sickly weak way, physically but not noticeably so. How insulting is this? It's like I'm apologising for my God's actions, appeasing Him and His call, but ensuring that in doing so I don't have to rock any boats. I can't fool God. I haven't been here for 9 weeks. I haven't been here at all.
Going back to Nottingham, I tripped over who I used to be in the silence.
I know that I'm not one to settle anywhere- I get too restless. It can come across as irrationality sometimes. Really, I'm just really open to possibilities and prompting. I don't believe in impossibility. Why should I? So I'm thinking and praying about what is wisest to do in the near future. To stay in Sheffield and charge through, or to go away for a year to grow alone and let dust settle in my absence.
Importantly, there is a year to grasp before then.
So the conclusion: I'm here. I hope, I'm really here now. I'm taking steps towards existence. Come and live! I'm going to try and not let politics of the past hold me back. Come alive! God can deal with those barriers. In His strength. I hope. Time will tell if I trust enough. I want to.