There’s something in the air that tells me we’re on the cusp of change. We hear the train coming for us. The thinking, the analysis, the paralysis is over. It’s time to grab hold and jump on when we see the train arriving in the station. “Don’t miss this one,” we hear. It could be the last one.
It’s like there are two roads ahead – one is a straight, two-lane road in the wide open desert. There’s a car sitting there waiting. It has two sets of brakes. It looks predictable and safe. On the other road sits a free-flowing, gravity pulling roller coaster. There are no brakes, allowing life to take you where it wants to. There is no set course that you can see, just up, down, and around in circles. But there’s a sign overhead that says, “This is where your dreams come true.” You know this is the road you should take, but it’s absolutely terrifying.
“Don’t think. Just surrender.” I wrote these words on my blackboard over my music keyboard in my studio. The thinking has been done. This is the time of surrender.
When I wrote about our Florida Thanksgiving trip when we were staying on Clearwater Beach, I told you about the encounter we had with a musician singing his heart out, strumming his guitar on a cold, lonely night on an empty street one block from the beach. And when we contributed to his tip jar, he stopped playing and singing, flashed me the biggest smile I’ve ever seen and started talking to us. I urged him to “Keep warm,” and he gave me a scientific explanation of the weather. And when we left, he said, “Thank you for reminding me to keep warm.”
In that moment I was convinced that Father Philip was right that “You see Jesus in the poor.” Now I don’t really know how poor he is, but I get the point. Nobody has ever smiled at me like that. And when I pondered that experience over the next few days, especially when I was feeling terrified of the idea of moving back to Florida for the third time, I realized, “I’d rather step out of my comfort zone and have an experience like that than safely tuck myself away in the familiarity of our house in the desert.”
I’ve committed to releasing an entire album, and I’m terrified of that, too. But I’m no longer overthinking. I’m surrendering. I’m jumping on the roller coaster and letting life take me where it wants to.