Journeying

Days before my birthday, I was telling myself to write something about the year that has been—my realizations, my accomplishments, my failures, my frustrations, and everything else that is expected to be pinned down during such life-turning occasion. I am usually not that sentimental, but I thought I need to get a hold of myself, try to look back, and draw learning that would help me live my life in the years ahead. Mulling over them was good, but putting them into writing was even better. However, I was good at ignoring the inner nudges. I wasn’t able to write anything days prior to my birthday, on my birthday itself, and few days after. It is only after a full month (071509) that I found myself writing.

Perhaps my avoidance of writing was partly because it had been a tough year. It was the year I caught the greatest blow of rejection and watched my long-time plans fall into pieces. Though I don’t call it cowardice, my avoidance had all the elements of it. The least I wanted was to be reminded, to see the memories flashing before me, to relive the pain. These same pain and frustrations caused me enormous and lingering confusion, the kind which would keep you restless until you find the source. I did find the source and it ushered me deep into my being, deeper than expected, and helped me see myself not just a blob on earth but as a person with a clear purpose. Though it was a tough year, it was also the year I knew more about who I am and what I was created for. And that alone is worth telling.

It didn’t happen abruptly. My self-discovery, I mean. It was a painful process and required me to be uprooted from where I was wrongly implanted. My perspectives had to be radically changed, my motives refined, my actions regrouped, and my plans restructured. Then one thing led to another. After a lot of seeking, questioning, self-doubting, and second-guessing, the dream was born anew and I seriously considered walking the path toward it.

The path, in fact, had been there all along, waiting for me, winking at me. I wasn’t just aware; I thought there was something else for me. It took some people, circumstances, and heartaches to validate it. And as if to dismiss the idea they were merely odd coincidences, more validations came and pointed me in that direction.

It isn’t the grandest of paths by the world standard. In fact, I am afraid I wouldn’t be as rich or as famed as I would have wanted. But this is where I am supposed to be. This is what I was created for. Unless I take this path and refuse the beckoning of the world and all its molds, I would forever feel restless, and joy, fulfillment, and blessings would always be elusive concepts. And I don’t want that.

Yes, I believe I have a predetermined path. My Maker thought of it as He was creating me. And these talents, these skills, this temperament, and everything that I am were purposely wired into my being in accordance to that path. That best explains why however hard I try to pull away and bring myself to the path of my own choosing, something pulls me back. He pulls me back.

I know the journey down that road is not without struggles. Every path, in the first place, has its own. But I won’t say I am not afraid. This is unchartered water and the fear of the unknown grips me. But the thought that I am trailing the path that is meant for me gives me confidence. And greater confidence comes by knowing that I am walking along with my Maker. This is not just human bravado, by the way. It emanates from indescribable peace, one you can get by sticking to your Creator’s original will for your life.

The year that has been was a bit challenging. I was put to a test—my faith and my character. But I wouldn’t seriously come to grips with myself had it not been for that season. I wouldn’t have known what I now know. It’s been a good year, after all.

“I will point out the road that you should follow. I will be your teacher and watch over you.”
Psalm 32:8 (CEV)