When you’re little, time moves so differently. If you have to wait any longer than perhaps half a day for something, it is simply forever . Birthdays never seem to come around, and it seems like years between Christmas’s.
I remember, as a kid, my mum saying time goes faster the older you get, and she had a point. At the old age of 12, it seemed a lot less time to wait for all the exciting things.
It makes me giggle now, when my eight year old (who thinks that she is far older than her years), talks about when she was ‘little.’
‘You still are little!’ I want to say! When I talk about being little, 8 is probably the age I’m talking about!
I think the bizarre thing though, about getting older, is how the years disappear. I was thinking of some friends who had left Darwin only a couple of years ago. And then I realised it was four years ago. It was the year Bailey was born.
Which then means that Bailey is nearly four! This year he will start pre-school, and I’ll only have one at home. I don’t know how that went so quickly. I don’t know where those years went.
It scares me a little bit.
Once upon a life time ago, I used to speak.
I was always confident as a kid. I loved the spotlight and the stage. I had no fear; I could do it all.
But things changed. Things always do.
I grew up. I began to see that the world wasn’t how I thought it. I questioned things, and I made mistakes. I let doubt and fear creep in.
And I decided that rather than being on the stage, I would live in a cave. That was an excellent substitution.
I liked my cave. There was nothing wrong with it; it was safe and secure and very comfortable. I never understood why people talk about being pushed out of ‘their comfort zone.’ I liked my comfort zone. My comfort zone, is comfortable.
It’s my cave.
But I never grew. I never stretched myself or embraced new things. I never became better; if anything I became less, because I was less of me.
Me, Jess, who I was made for, is supposed to be out there. That’s when I’m alive. That’s when I’m me.
Slowly, over the years, I’ve stepped out. Moved out of the cave and into the daylight.
But never the stage.
I told myself, never again would I do that. I couldn’t do that. It’s too hard, and too much. Too much responsibility. Too much to lose.
Apparently I forgot to tell God this. Or if I did, He wasn’t listening. Or possibly He was listening, but chose to ignore me when I said that, and instead hold me to the other promises I made Him. That I wanted to be all He made me to be, because I want to make Him look good.
Friday night, I was dragged kicking and screaming (figuratively) in front of a group of women and told to talk about body image.
To say I was terrified was an understatement. I’m not really sure why I agreed in the first place, but I did. And it wasn’t really that bad. I was nervous for about the first 3.2 seconds, and then I wasn’t. I was just me. Like I am here. Authentic, hopeful, and a little crazy.
Afterwards when I thought about it, I realised how the time had gone.
It had been ten years.
A decade since I stood in front of anyone, and said anything that mattered. A tenth of a century wasted hiding, because I am scared of me, and what being me might actually mean.
In the bible there was a guy called Jonah who decided he didn’t want to speak to people, so he ran away and jumped on a boat and got eaten by a fish. He spent three days in that fish praying, before he got spit up and decided to do what he was supposed to do.
It’s a sad reality to me, that Jonah, who was fish food for three days, was still better off than me.
Ten years at half capacity.
I made a promise to God. That I would do what He asked me, and be who He made me. And sometimes I wish I hadn’t, sometimes I think that was the stupidest thing I could ever have said, because sometimes God calls people to do some random things.
But I’m starting to realise that God is where the adventure is, and if I want my life too count for something, if I want to be all that I can be, and bless everyone I come into contact with, then I need to chase the adventure. I need to chase God.
There is a stirring going on inside of me.
I’m not sure what it means.
Watch this space.