I have now been to worship at Garden City three times. Two Sundays, that is. The first time I sang during worship, that night I worshipped at the Vine, then this week I went home again, and sang again. John was there, he came with me. It’s not actually home, not really; the whole, not have a home right now thing. Anyway.
I sang and then after the service I didn’t go out the front of the church, instead, mom found me and got her church basket, and John and I snuck out the back with her. Later, she came out and chastised me (not really) for not greeting of my “Adoring Public.” Yeah. I get it. Kinda. It is the church my parents are serving. But I won’t be serving in this church. I won’t even be serving in this state (ever, I don’t think). And so, really, what am I? Why am I still the Preacher’s Daughter? When do I get to be not involved in a church I have absolutely no ties to. Truly, I won’t be there, and after June I won’t even ever really be free on a Sunday to come to their church. I’ll have my own ministry.
And yet. What part of my ministry is serving as a daughter to my parents? What part of the ministry that they have is strengthened by having two daughters that love their people even though they don’t know them.
I will never learn many of their names. In three years, mom and dad may not even be there any more. (Especially if the past ten are any indication). What do I need to do?
When I was at the beach this past week I climbed the only lighthouse in South Carolina that is publicly accessible. It’s old. Like over 100 years old. We climbed the steps to the top, stopping to read the little historical snippets at each landing, looking out each window: “Oh look, more pine trees!” It is also over 100 feet tall. I forget how many steps, nearly 200, we didn’t count, the plackets did it for us. And when we reached the top, we looked out, and saw the ocean. We saw the beach coming into the pine forest, we saw the other islands around us. The gentle breeze of the ground level had turned into a cool wind. The wind gusting around us, we went the circuit around the tower, looking at the water reaching out to the horizon. I really wanted to drop something from the top, pennies I had found at our campsite that were still in my pocket, but I refrained because…
On the ground I realized that the reason we didn’t see the water until we reached the top was because the windows were only to the cardinal directions away from the water. Probably a good idea, they might have broken more easily. It made the view of the water more gratifying and breathtaking at the top.
It still works by the way, even though all ships now have GPS, the Light keeps shining thought the night. Just in case.
Why? I know it’s not a movie. But… how did you know?
I don’t. Really. I’m not sure. And then I am. Not because I am sure and certain, but because I trust. I trust that I won’t get it right. I trust that I don’t have all the answers. And I am ok with that. I am trusting that I don’t need all the answers. Thank God, because if I needed all the answers to do something, then nothing would ever get done. So I don’t know. I’m not certain. I’m not sure.
I am sure that I want to trust. I am sure that I want to go out on an adventure. I am sure that I want to leap into the unknown and see what happens when I land. If I land.
I want to go. I have to believe that I can do something I have never done before and still exist.
I do it all the time, anyway. I have to do new things. I am in new things all the time and still live.
As long as I am not afraid to do something wrong a few times. A few hundred times.
Mistakes and misinterpretations will be forgiven, as long as perfection is not expected.
Who knows, the right way may just turn out. But that takes patience. And endurance. And prayer. And help. And trust. And faith.
So: Faith. I don’t know. But I have faith.
And I want an Adventure. Don’t you?