Where is my parachute?

I have always been deeply impressed and in awe of people who go sky diving. It's not that I don't understand it. I get it...that incredible exhilaration one must feel when you finally reach the ground. Or, that feeling of complete freedom people describe when they finally let go and just enjoy the ride. What I don't understand, however, is that moment of complete terror and panic I would have to feel as I stood at the ledge, too high up to see the ground, completely frozen in fear of the fact that I am about to jump out of a plane.

I've realized recently that I'm a person who lives her life avoiding these moments of terror. I'm a professional fear avoider, if you will.

I plan to deal with being afraid. I realize that to some this makes me a control freak. I prefer to call it "knowing what I want." But, whatever the semantics, it makes me live my life in a constant state of intense awareness of the future, learning from the past and completely avoiding what's going on in the present. And when the present is riddled with pain and discomfort, rather than sitting with it, I plan on how to rid myself of it, and then, how to avoid feeling this way again. This little habit of mine, often shows itself in manipulation, in controlling tactics. I have to get people, things, the world, God, whatever--to do what I want so that fear can JUST GO AWAY.

Not the cutest trait, trust me.

And this brings me back to what makes sky diving so impressive. For the first time, I GET IT. The accomplishment in sky diving is the jump. It's standing on that ledge, terrified, and JUMPING ANYWAY. It's having the faith that your parachute will open, that you will make it down and that you will be better than you were before the jump.

And this is what makes this current period of transition so incredibly scary for me. Because right now, I'm filled with pain. I'm standing on that ledge, about to jump out of the plane and I have no choice but to take that leap. I have no choice because I have literally exhausted every option. I have planned, I have manipulated, bargained and cajoled and I still find myself, 13,000 feet in the air, literally facing my biggest fear. I have to embrace this pain, and let it have its way with me. Wave after wave, coursing through my life and my consciousness until I've learned the lessons and grown into the woman God will have me to become.

And the problem, is that I don't WANT to jump. I have had many, many friends tell me that they're proud of me, that I'm strong, and I often look at them, confused. I appreciate the compliment, but I don't feel very brave. I don't feel very strong. I am ONLY jumping right now because I've already tried everything else. If I could figure out a way to make it work, I would return to the same situation that has led me here. Is there pain in the past? Of course. But THAT pain I know. THAT pain I've become comfortable with.

And I have a parachute I don't have much experience in. I have to wrap myself in a parachute of faith and trust that it will work on my ride down. I have to do the thing I am not yet good at doing, and that's to stop planning. To let go and feel myself coast, to embrace the freedom in not being in control and letting God take the reigns for awhile. It's hard because so far all I've known of this experience is pain. All I've felt is fear. I have to trust that the God who lives in me AS me, will show up for me.

And all I can say is, this parachute BETTER effing work. God, wrap me in your faithfulness.