I didn’t know
When I gave that thing up . . . that thing – the thing that so defines who I am . . . when I gave it up to the call of the needs of another . . . I knew what I gave . . . I knew what a big deal it was . . . I knew I would be changed . . . I knew there would be loss . . .
What I didn’t reckon on is how very permanent it would be . . . that all the absolving . . . all the praying . . . all the wrestling . . . all the all of it . . . would indelibly rewrite me.
Somehow being changed is not the same as never being the same.
And I have been and will forever be . . . not the same.
For her, that girl over there on the other side of this particular line of time, for her do I mourn. I liked her. She was fabulous. And I gave her away.
It was important, or so I thought. And I think I was right.
But oh, I do miss her.
Thinking on the cost of choosing, with humility and trepidation do I try to imagine God’s own choosing and its great cost to the very Divine.
To choose human flesh, not as window-dressing, not as a suit of protective armor, but as a very identity . . . to choose that vulnerability . . . that limitedness . . . what must it have been like to step across that line?
Did God hesitate? Did God ponder the enormity of the change for God’s own self in The Divine Coming? Did God ask God’s self what am I doing?
Did God hesitate?
All I know is I would have.