Building on Truth

I’ve been feeling a bit frustrated today. I’m sure the process of packing up a house, getting settled with a new job, and all that goes along with moving have something to do with it. I just have something I cannot get out of my head.

I spent several hours on the phone recently with someone, and what I gained from that conversation was a very real fact for me. I make the worst decisions when I base my choices on what I think someone else wants or what I think they will give or do for me through that decision. The sad part is that for a long time that’s how I made all my decisions, and I felt completely justified because it seemed so selfless at the time. In the end, though, I’d feel cheated because I compromised and ended up with nothing to show for it but a lot of heartache and embarrassment.

What I’m discovering is that I must make my choices based on what I know is true. That can sometimes mean sorting fact from fiction. That can also mean falling back on basic principles of honesty and justice and kindness. Sometimes this is scary. Sometimes this doesn’t make sense. Sometimes it feels selfish, but truth is absolute. It doesn’t change. There are moments when I wish it was open to my interpretation, but I really like knowing that I always have the truth to fall back on. I find comfort in that. As long as I center my life around truth, I have a rock-foundation to support me through the consequences.

To Risk or Not to Risk

“Keep an eye out for the local hotel when you get into town. You’re gonna get a kick out of it.” My husband had a lovely smirk on his face that told me I was in for a treat.

He knows me all too well. I’m a sucker for anything that smacks of small town America. I pulled into the tiny farm town in the middle of nowhere Florida. All around me, I saw signs of life that you cannot find in well-manicured, gated communities. Box houses lined the streets in an array of colors. Kid paraphrenalia, saint statues, and lawn chairs adorned the yards. Women and children and men lined the sidewalks on foot and bikes.

Glimpses of poverty surrounded me. So did a sense of life that you cannot find just anywhere. Families and friends share meals and long conversations. They have one goal: make a life out of what they have. They know what matters: holding on relationships. There are no homeowner’s associations sending out letters because a basketball net is in the driveway or the grass is one inch higher than it should be. Instead, you find people sharing what they have and protecting what they hold dear.

I found my soul there. I want this job. It’s mine, but I have to decide between this one and another place that is closer to home and doesn’t require me driving down a rather dangerous two lane highway. Logically, I should go with the closer one, but my heart is pleading with me to take the risk and invest my time in the tiny, backwards, poverty-stricken area.

Sometimes decisions don’t make logical sense. This one certainly doesn’t, but it’s getting more difficult to drown out the cries of my soul with the hammer of reason. For now, I’m thinking. And praying. And considering all the possibilities. And hoping that the right thing to do will rise above the discourse.