The great wager

I feel compelled to start this post off with a truthful disclosure: I have absolutely no idea where or how this writing is going to end. My heart is full, but my words are tangled in the spider web of complication. I think they've termed this syndrome "writer's block," but I can't make a definite diagnosis. Anyways, consider yourselves warned.

If I had to adequately describe the last twelve months of my life in ten seconds or less, I would tell you that it was like riding the world's tallest roller coaster backwards and blindfolded after eating cheese tots and winning the lottery, to which you might be compelled to ask, "What does that mean?", and I would further clarify by telling you I have no idea. Our exchange would be among the top ten most sincere conversations I've ever had.

Life is weird (or, at least mine is, anyways). My cousin and I were recently discussing our lives and all the triumphs, struggles, complications, and victories in our journeys. Our ramblings escorted me all the way down memory lane, and I can safely say that life is surprising. Believe it or not, I think that's a good thing.

I am so thankful. In fact, I don't even like the word thankful because it feels overused, cheap, and devoid of value, but Webster's pocket dictionary only offered me blissful, chuffed, delighted, gratified, happy, joyful, joyous, pleased, satisfied, glad, or tickled as synonyms, and none of those fit. I am hugely, extraordinarily, and exceedingly grateful for the daily opportunity to breathe fresh air.
The places God has brought me to and through and around and under are crazy good, to the point of being unbelievable. The paths I've meandered on and down and around are breath-taking and maybe a bit frightening. The sights and sounds and smells along the way are almost too much for human language. This whole being alive thing, it's just really, really, really marvelous. Sometimes I'm afraid we take that for granted.

I don't know what's next. My perfectly laid out, neatly ordered, and firmly established life plan gets jumbled out of order unexpectedly at approximately hourly intervals, so I've pretty much given up on the whole trying to figure out what's behind the next curve thing. Maybe I'll visit the moon, or Paris, or my next door neighbor (that last one is highly unlikely). Or maybe I'll take an early retirement and stay home and write novels while drinking excessive amounts of chocolate soy milk and eating honey nut cheerios with my puppies. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll run an orphan village and turn out like the little old lady who lived in a shoe, except I won't be whipping kids before bed, and we won't actually live in a worn out shoe. The truth is, I don't know about tomorrow, or next week, or a year from now, but I'm all-in. I want to love large and lead people to Jesus. It's really just that simple.