Not Alone

On late-night drives home by myself, I tend to do some real soul searching- especially when I turn my music off, which is a rare occasion. I do my best thinking in moments like this, probably because I cannot escape myself. It is just me, my beloved Jeep, and the road ahead.

Sometimes I reflect on the day I had, or what I have to look forward to tomorrow, or what I wish I did better, or what I’ll do different next time. Sometimes I pray, sometimes out loud. And, yes, sometimes I cry. Sometimes in that exact order. But no matter what, I always get lost in my thoughts, and have to pull myself out of a trance once I drive up to my house.

(Side note here- you’ll need to know this to understand who I am. I am convinced that my brain works at an average speed of 90 miles a minute. You might think I’m bragging- I’m not. Convenient? At times, yes. Overwhelming? Usually. This is basically the nice way of saying I could overanalyze things for a living. I scrutinize life like it’s my job. For me, saying, “there is something on my mind” is merely the understatement of a century. When something is on my mind, I usually work through the whole issue in 2.5 minutes. This means two things: one- I am helpful in a crisis, and two- that’s all it takes to fully stress myself out- 2.5 minutes, or, heaven forbid, less.)

So, really, a five-minute drive can be genuinely therapeutic or torture for me.

I can be driving along, sweetly thinking, “Wow, I really love this neighborhood. I’m so glad I grew up here. I hope my kids will live in a neighborhood like this one day. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up here one day with a family. Wouldn’t it be crazy if my kids went to the same elementary school I did? And middle school? And high school? And college? Sic’em Bears! Maybe that is what God has in store for me. But maybe not. Lord, I can’t wait to find out.” (This thought process takes about 10 seconds, of course.)

In quiet moments like this, anxiety and fear creep up on me, attacking my sacred silence, stealing my breath, invading only to hold my mind hostage.

Now, instead of, “Wow, I love the neighborhood I grew up in.” I’m thinking, “Wow, I’ve lived in this neighborhood my whole life- don’t I want to go explore? Live somewhere new? If I move back here, am I creating a life for myself or falling back into everything I already know? Wait, I already did move back here. Yeah, Mer, wake up, you are still living with your mom and dad! Goodbye college apartment, hello suburbia! But do I really belong in suburbia? I’m not married. I don’t have kids. I don’t even have a dog. I’m sure the nearest 22-year-old lives at least 1,000 miles away. Am I living someone else’s life? What am I saying, I chose to move back here…I know this is where I am supposed to be. I love my job. I love my church. I love being close to family. God has shown me so many times that I am right where I need to be! I need to trust him. He will provide. He has plans I don’t even know about. I should be grateful. I should embrace this time at home. It is going to be good for me. Deep breath, Mer, deep breath.” (It’s now been a minute and 42 seconds, and I’m still waiting at the same darn stoplight…great.)

Does your brain work this way? Oh, please tell me I’m not alone! Do you start out with a simple thought and snowball it into a giant mess in your head? Do you know what it feels like to be bombarded by your own thoughts? Betrayed by your own little mind?

Welcome to my life. Take a deep breath (either with me or for me).

I’ve told you all of this because tonight all of those thoughts were fresh on my mind as I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of my car. My heart was racing as I pulled up to my parent’s house when something caught my eye- the stars were out tonight. I looked up and felt a rush of piece that only the Lord can give as I stared up at summer’s night sky. Suddenly, my problems felt small. I felt small. And I felt understood.

I stood there for a few seconds, admiring the shimmering droplets of hope, and thanked God for grabbing my attention, rebalancing my perspective. He has used stars to do that my whole life. Stars are even in my first memories- I remember being pushed around in my stroller at night when I was a baby, looking up and watching the “twinkle lights”. Now, a simple shooting star is enough to make me tear up with humble adoration.

Whatever is looming over you tonight, whatever feels too heavy on your heart, whatever is keeping you from sleeping peacefully- I encourage you to go stand outside and look up at the stars until your worries feel small. Until God feels big and you feel small. Until you feel understood.