Don't Tame Me

"Sameness is tameness"  D.B. Estep

I heard that today and it ricocheted around in my brain as I sat there quiet in a bible class.  I have moments like that frequently.  Like a shot in the sky that makes me stop and I can't move past what it does inside of me. I look around the room to see if anyone else is looking wide eyed bulls eyed hit.   I grabbed onto it.  That.  That's what I want.  I want to be shaken up.  I'm scared at the thought of being left the same.  I'm terrified of change that I didn't authorize.  And here lately, there's been a lot of that.  But those are the terms.  To avoid "tame", I have to board a train I'm not driving.  I have to let "same" slip out of my grasp.  

The adventure of living a life in His hands is one I don't get to define.  I think of the tempest of tame avoidance and I picture white water rafting and hikes up the sides of steep, windy mountains and the swell of the "Rocky" theme as I stand triumphant.  And there are those over the moon moments. January 1, 2016 at 6 a.m. I will board a plane to Denver, where Beatrice Haven and I will begin our relationship as Nana and granddaughter.  That's not anything new under the sun for anyone else but me.  But in my journey?  It marks legacy and a deeper purpose than even my own motherhood.  This is catching a glimpse of seeing what I planted and raising me one better.  I'm all kinds of emotions I don't have names for over that.

There's today.  I had one friend new, who sat right down in front of me and wondered where I'd been the last three weeks and waited for an answer.  Not to be nosey or polite.  To care enough to ask and to look me right in the eye while I answered honest. There's the the one who put their hand on my shoulder while we prayed and looked at me after. "I'm glad you're here." There's my other friend who saw me walk into the church auditorium and called out, "There you are!" and grabbed hold and hugged me hard.  There's another who waved at me smiling.  My "adopted" mom and dad, who took us to Sunday dinner and showered us with love and laughter and bags full of gifts we don't deserve.  My favorite one was the small container of nutella tucked into a corner of the bag because that said "I know you."  To be known is my oxygen.  To want to be known is life to me.  

Those things?  Tether me to the anchor of Him for the wild ride of "tame shedding".  He is in each of the anchor people He puts in my life to help me walk right out into the dark. But some of those anchors challenge me and rock me in ways I don't like.  They say things; do things that make my skin burn and my teeth hurt and my nerves jangle.  They walk out on me, hold a mirror to my face, leave me sucking in air or sputtering under hurt. They tell me things I don't want to hear.  They make me feel things I don't want to feel. They bump up against my shins and make me shift my feet quick to avoid the pain; escape the challenge.   Because that is my first inclination. But right before I run to the bow of the boat,  it makes me look facing out at the water and forces the question.  Do you want to go sit hidden and try to tame the waves?  

Do you really want everything to stay the same?