There are a few parts of my life and story that you should know because they will likely be referenced in future posts: traveling and experiencing culture are two of my passions.
I’ve visited several countries and forty states. There’s something that draws me to new places and people. Being a wanderer, I am not much of a homebody.
I love food. Connected somewhat to the above, trying new foods from all over makes me happy. As does baking and cooking and sharing food with others. Food brings people together, forging a place to share stories, and it tastes good. (Or it should.)
Don’t ask me about favorites. For reasons that I have stopped trying to understand, it’s almost painful for me to pick a favorite of almost anything — color, food, movie.
I’m also prone to worrying — not so much as an art form, but as a way of being and thinking. I realize worrying isn’t healthy, but currently, it’s how I work. From little details like how I might spend time on a weekend to big decisions like where to move or which job to take, I spend plenty of time thinking and worrying.
Even with YOB, I worry whether I fit in here. I worry how much time I spend talking about these topics with these people. And I worry whether I even have a story worth sharing.
I wonder what I have to say that somebody else hasn’t already written here? Or could say better? Are my experiences needed in this conversation?
A few weekends ago, I went on a retreat with my life group — they’re good people, but I’m still getting to know them. I was just hoping for some relaxation and maybe a conversation that would draw me slightly closer to people in the group. Low expectations — it’s safer that way.
During worship the first night, another guy came over and asked if he could share “a word” for me. He felt God calling me to be a “path maker.” The visual he received was that of my going through thick brush, having to clear a way. This journey and work would not be easy — tiring and trying at times — but there were paths to be made.
God would (will) be with me as I trudge these new ways. And it was, he said, paths (plural) that I would be making for others to journey upon later.
Well. That was timely. And no pressure, right?
These words served as a reminder that my story — everybody’s story, really — is worth telling and sharing.
And equally as important, truth needs to be spoken. Not that I have a complete understanding in my writing, but that truth about my identity and relationships and God needs iteration.
So, here I am. Still rather unsure of what story I’ll even be telling, but knowing that Truth being spoken and shared is vital for at least my own forward-moving life. I’m hoping that as I stumble through words and new experiences, something will strike a chord with another brother (or sister).
I’m expecting that conversations will be mutually beneficial, because I know I don’t have the answers.
Will you join a wanderer on this journey?
Say hello to our newest blogging brother, Kevin! Do you ever feel like you have little to offer a group? Has anyone ever shared “a word” with you about your life? Do you see the value in sharing your story, or does this seem unreasonable at this point in your life?