I have moved close to 10 times in 8 years. Packed up my children, my stuff, my heart...my life close to 10 times in less than a decade. Was I running? Maybe. Running from myself? From hurt? Who knows. This year, with the help of God, close friends and family, I purchased my own home.
An anchor. Finally. I walk around my house everyday in awe..."this is mine...this home is for me and my children..." It is humbling and scary and absolutely wonderful at the same time. I could compare it to a giant super fast roller coaster (Cheetah Hunt maybe?) in which you are strapped in but at the mercy of the twists, turns, and the impending drops after a slow, deliberate rise.
In the past 9 years, I have experienced so much in my "travels". Great love, incredible heartache, sweet wonderful moments with children, fantastic trips with friends, and then...I have experienced complete and utter derailment. I have prayed in my best moments, and I have begged for forgiveness in my worst and my heart is the fragile element that has yet to heal from all of the hurt. Time...time...time, right? Sure.
At 42 1/2 years old, I am in this new place. I have left toxicity behind, filling the void with people and things that desire the same as myself...peace and inner prosperity. Let me tell you though, the hurt and the emotions involved with making that choice has been almost unbearable. I cannot (and will not) let it overtake me and I will never go back.
Never.
One of the definitions of anchor is truly my fave...a person or thing that provides strength and support. I AM that person to my children, to my students and I need to figure out how to be that to myself. Anyone with me on this? I have to remind myself daily to embrace what is wonderful and true, and to let go of the rest.
Maybe my next nomadic adventure should be the one in which I find myself? Once and for all. Be my own anchor!
Psalms 147:3 He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
