What If/What Now

by MitchellRichards

It appears as though I have dug myself into a rut.  It seems as though the cycles of my life are doing just that…cycling.  One moment is filled with joy and excitement, but as the revolutions go around it turns to laziness and grief.  I can only measure what I’ve done in millimeters in the miles of life that I have lived, and as the world continue to spins without slowing down and waiting for me to catch up, I have decided to sit at the bus stop.

What ifs, I have learned, can soothe many scars like a band aide on the wound.  But they never heal.  What ifs are only an anti-itch cream over the itch of accomplishments and purpose.  What ifs are dreams and rumors of calling and demands made from something bigger than you.  But, what ifs are nothing.  What ifs are lazy and reckless and taking up space.  What ifs sit at the bus stop of life, waiting and hoping for a bus to come by and take you to your destination.  A bus that, in all likelihood, you missed because you were distracted by the flashy advertisements and fast food restaurants along the way.

I want to turn my what ifs…

What if I wrote that book…
What if I moved…
What if I ask that girl out…
What if I tried to get that better job…
What if…
What if…
What if…

I want to turn my what ifs into what nows.

I wrote that book…What now?
I moved…What now?
I got the pretty girl…What now?
Better job?  What now?
What now?
What now?
What now?

I need to be redeemed, not only of my sins, but from a life lived poorly.  I have come to find that redemption is found around every corner, between churches and states, between midnight and sunrise, and between betrayal and union.  Grace is found in the shadows of steeples and the fire pits of slums.  And grace and redemption is not just for wrongs doings, but also for shortcomings.  Grace for the lazy.  Redemption for the distracted.  Grace for the dead in the water.  Redemption for the frozen in their own tracks.

Maybe it’s the New Year, but I doubt it because the itch of something more bothers me 11 months out of the year.  The only month it doesn’t bother me is the month I am going out and pursuing it.

If 2009 was a year of finding myself, I want 2010 to be a year of losing myself.
If 2009 was a year of finding myself, I want 2010 to be a year of giving that discovery away.
If 2009 was a year of finding myself, I want 2010 to be a year of getting lost in an ocean’s current, pulled by the waves, and drown, and to find life existing below the surface.

I pray that collectively, we can change the what ifs to what nows and get lost together.