Wait a minute… isn’t everything north already?
When the sun rises just slight east of due north, and sets just slightly west of due north – and basically just does a lap around you – the sense of north, south, east and west become muddled, to say the least. I know many people don’t even think about their place in the universe directionally, but when you’re married to a hunter, it becomes all about internalizing where north is at all times. So part of this trip has been literally trying to find our place in the universe (and for me, as always, that can take on a deeper meaning for sure!
So let me wax introspectively for a bit:
I am living, actually living, a dream that began in earnest more than a year ago… but much longer than that. Nothing noble about this dream. Just a plain, selfish, wanderlust dream.
During this trip I have felt lavishly spoiled, and my own “internal” north is feeling a bit skewed. Somehow it doesn’t feel quite right to be as blessed as I’m being… and my compass nudges me that I “should” feel a little bit guilty. In my heart of hearts, I know I haven’t done a thing to deserve this trip – and yet it has been perfect in every way. In the center of all I know to be true, I am assuredly less ‘deserving’ of so many people I know, who will most never see the likes of this kind of living dream; my heart aches for them and I feel a bit ashamed at the extravagance I’m living.
I so easily understand the accusation of Judas toward Mary, “that oil, your Iceland trip money, could have been used to feed the poor.” And the truth is, the money I saved for a year could have been used on more than me. Lord knows at my core I am a living, breathing, entitled American who cannot even fathom the neediness of this hurting world…. But with all that said, this trip has still been undeniably touched by the sweetness of God – no doubt about it. None.
… and yet still that nasty internal compass – though exceeding thankful – is just a bit outta whack. How do I reckon the truth of me, with the truth of God? It’s never about me, it’s all about God, and yet he makes it all about me… as he washes my feet. It is too incredibly, wonderfully, horribly humbling. Where is my north?
“Think of yourself at Christmas time, Jane.” I hear my husband say. ” Don’t you just love to give gifts? Isn’t that your greatest joy? Who do you think is getting the most enjoyment of this trip? I think it’s the One who’s giving it. At least I hope it is.”
My True North.
The sun isn’t rising and setting, or looping around me at all. It stays steady and firm. It shines pure and bright. It remains the same yesterday, today and forever. It’s just this ol’ earth is spinning – this me – that gets its panty in a bunch and spins its own yarn.
The Son never changes.
And I don’t even need to set my compass. It works all by itself without me.
My True North.
… and he lets me dance around him.