How often do we find freedom, only to return to the thing which held us in bondage?
Last night, this particular question waged war against my resolve. I wrestled with it for quite a while, tucked away in my favorite reading chair in my darkened apartment. After listening to an excited voice message from my best friend about some of my writing she recently read, I realized how important wrestling with this question can be. And how much stronger the struggle can make us; if we let it.
It’s in these moments where true courage is put to the test. It’s in these moments where we have a choice to make (sometimes more than a few times over)… The choice between what we’ve allowed ourselves to become used to….comfortable with and the Life we dream could be possible in those stolen moments, when we’re covered in tears and desperation.
Freedom dwells on the other side of that choice. Freedom is where the good stuff happens; not the easy stuff necessarily, but the really good stuff.
Unfortunately, it rarely exists inside our comfort zones….
I ran across a scribble this morning while digging through my desk drawer for my bottle of super glue (a very effective paper cut bandage – FYI). It felt a little like fate uncovering this scribble; after a long night of wrestling with the question above. It spoke to my wavering courage. It spoke to the possibilities that lie ahead. The choice is mine. I can stay in my quiet corner and fade. Or I can grab hold of my courage and venture past the borders of a now defenseless cage….in search of the really good stuff.
So I figured, why wait until Saturday to throw out this scribble? Tuesday is a perfectly acceptable day for scribbles…because who knows who else out there is wrestling with their cages and courage today…
Hands tied and broken wings…
You fought so long for flight.
Now, free and whole…
Why must you recall only
the deceitful safety of
your shattered cage.