Hope Deferred

I have a rock. It's not just any rock. It's actually pretty special as far as rocks are concerned (and some of you reading already know about this rock... my apologies, but the analogy perfectly fit me once again). I was in England with my family for a few weeks, just seeing the sights and enjoying some time off. We were part of this huge tour group that travelled around together like a flock of ducks, snapping photos and squawking loudly about everything in our big, American accents. One of the few teenagers in this decidedly older group was my first summer fling. We didn't really do much, except entertain each other on the frustratingly long bus rides through monotonous English countryside. During the trip, we toured Belvoir Castle in Rutland, a beautiful estate currently inhabited by the Duke and Duchess of Rutland. The sights were distinctly fairy-tale esque with overflowing gardens, spiraling staircases and a touch of magic everywhere you turned.

After the tour, I got back to the bus. Summer Fling wasn't far behind, bearing an unorthodox souvenir. He presented me with a palm-sized rock he found in a corner outside the castle's wall, presumably a chip off the structure itself. "I'm taking home part of the castle!" he claimed. I found this to be a brilliant idea, but had no time to go back for my own piece. Summer Fling, the Prince Charming he was, broke his piece in two and gave me half. As I type this post, it stares at me from its seat on my laptop. And I wonder, if someone presented me with the offer of trading my dear little rock for the rest of the castle, would I refuse? Would I hold on fast to this small, sentimental pebble only to lose the whole estate?

This rock has come to represent a lot for me over the years since England, Summer Fling, and fairy tale settings. It's my hopes, dreams, desires. The most secret inmost part of me, the part that's afraid to come out for fear of seeming ridiculous and unrealistic. I've changed a lot since that summer, so much so I've given up on wishes and dreams. I've let my own cynicism convince my heart of its folly, and I've allowed the actions of others to confirm my convictions.

But now, it seems I have an offer. God wants me to trade my little, banged up, damaged rock for a castle. I've made a mess of myself, really. My desires and hopes have been ravaged by reality and insufficiently fulfilled with poor attempts at genuine love. But He still seems set on trading this out and giving me more than I can possibly imagine. Sounds like a pretty obvious choice, right?

The hesitancy I feel is what throws me. I can't let go. I can't seem to unclasp my grip from the thing I know in my head is not God's best for me. I'm afraid of hurting someone I care about, of losing temporary security that feels really good right now. I can't do it. And I kind of despise myself for it.

So once again, I find I lack the strength to be weak, the confidence to be vulnerable, and the courage to be afraid.