LOST

             I’m the person who can quite literally say that she gets lost in parking lots.
It’s a running joke that if I’m ever late for something, it’s probably because I’m lost, driving in circles. I’m sure that after I finish watching the TV show LOST (Sidenote: Yes, I realize that I’m about ten years late on this one), I’ll be able to write some deep comparison of the show to my life.
                Today, I was attempting to drive to a church concert event that a friend invited me to. I left with plenty of time to spare. Music cranked up, clouds dotting the blue skies, and no traffic. The trip was off to an excellent start. As I watched the tiny digital numbers tick by on the dashboard, I was sure I was actually going to arrive early. However, after I passed the same yellow Victorian era house four times, I realized that, in spite of my best intentions to follow the soothing voice of Google Maps, I had been going in circles.
                ‘No big deal,’ I told myself. ‘I’ll find it eventually.’
                With each wrong turn, it became evident that I was probably driving further and further away from my desired destination. Normally, when I become lost, I start to panic, wondering how I can get back on track.        
                This time was different.
                I opened my windows and breathed in the crisp fall air. I sang (and danced) to the radio. The gold and rusty leaves ushered autumn in with a grand display. Although I never did reach the event and drove around for an hour and a half in search of it, I was okay. Okay with being lost.
                So much of my life when I was younger was spent rooted in plans and dreams. I recently discovered one of my journals from middle school. Between the tattered pages, I penned the whispers of my heart with a sparkly green gel pen, outlining how I was sure my life would turn out.
                I would be a doctor.
                I would adopt many children.
                I would be married.
                I would have a cute little apartment.
                I would change the world.
                All by the age of 24.
                I’m 24 now. I gave up my dreams of entering the medical field after realizing that I didn’t like hospitals, blood, sick people, broken bones, or germs.
                I have no children, I’m not married, and I haven’t changed the world yet.
                I do have an apartment that I think is cute, so at least one part of my adolescent dreams hold true.
                Back then, I was convinced. I was convinced that my life would follow a certain course. I knew my destination.
                It never occurred to me that I would spend much of my life being lost.
                I still have dreams, goals, and hopes. I have the opportunity to be a teacher, which is something I am completely passionate about and in love with. However, I don’t know exactly where my life is going.
                And I’m learning to embrace the part of life that is a spontaneous adventure.
                Being lost can feel scary. I’m honestly not sure exactly what my life will look like next year at this point. Part of me wants to cling to the certain, to pull close to the shores of complacency and comfort and try to force my life into the confines of my plans and what I think I need.
                But life is bigger than boxes. Life is bigger than certainty. Sometimes where I want to be is not where I need to be.
                Paradoxically, when I’m lost, I often am found. When I’m lost, I can no longer hide behind the delusion of control. I find what I didn’t even know I was looking for.
                 Today, although I did not reach the event, I was able to truly embrace the adventure. Life is beautiful and messy and unpredictable.

                I’m excited to see where the adventure continues to lead me.

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