Cries of a Curious Follower

I want to. I haven’t always.

It is a responsibility, a lost art. Today, our culture is so “fly by night.” When we are bored, we quit. When we dislike, we cancel.

I want to be a person of integrity, even when it is unpopular. When doing the hard thing, I want to slow down and make sure I am doing it correctly.

Honor plays a big role here.

There’s a word you don’t hear anymore. Honor. Keeping your word. Being intentional. All that goes hand in hand.

At the end of something, I need to make sure that I finish well. My last career (I have had several), I ended an 11 year stint “on the clock,” attending every meeting I had on my calendar. People thought it strange. I was already an afterthought.

I remember it feeling so strange. No one even said goodbye—people who I had poured myself into. I wasn’t offended or hurt, but it was strange. I remember having to push down a little urge to just leave early–after all, my presence wasn’t accomplishing anything. It did seem pointless.

And the fact is, I could have. No one would have minded. And in earlier times in my life, I would have and thought nothing of it.

But . . . that was perhaps the first time I sensed it was time to really be present. Not to run. Not to be somewhere mentally that I wasn’t physically. I chose that day to be present.

Well, here I am again: closing a chapter with intentionality. I desire to finish this well. And I’m amazed as I look around me to see so much anxiety in others who cannot understand or embrace the change the way I am at this time.

As I imagine it, I have removed my old shoes and am standing shoeless. My new shoes are sitting next to me, but I won’t put them on prematurely. I won’t rush the process. These new shoes are foreign to me. I will have to break them in and there is no telling what pain might be involved.

In my youth, I would simple throw the new ones on, leave the old one’s lying there and run away, leaving a mess to clean up for someone else. I cannot do that ever again. There is no honor in that.

I want to remember the good things from this journey. Admire the memories of where these old shoes have taken me. A lot of stains, worn tread, and dirt roads. I’m conscious that I could simply keep wearing these shoes, stay where I’m at, live what is known and controllable.

But it’s time to move on. So, here I sit. I want to finish strong this chapter before I move on. The people around me deserve that. God expects that of me. And love demands it, even if my culture does not value it.

Lord, help me to stay present and finish well.