chasing the sun

I’ve been reading a book that, though I am not its target audience, has been comforting and thought-provoking in its way. It’s called To Own a Dragon, and it’s written by one of my favorite authors, Donald Miller. His style is not for everyone. He’s honest, sometimes awkwardly so, and writes in such a way that you think maybe someone got a hold of his journal without him knowing and published it to spite him.

The book is written for men who, like Miller, grew up without a father around. And although I am a woman and my father was around, the feelings of insecurity, inadequacy and resentment he relates mirror my own in many respects.

My father was around, but he was a dictator who regularly lost his temper, threw tantrums, and occasionally hit my sisters and me out of shear rage and frustration. Oddly, he was also a deacon in our church and well-thought of by most everyone who knew him. My distrust and fear of men is likely a byproduct of my strained relationship with him.

To my father, I think, I was a disappointment because I was not more athletic or beautiful. I was not like him in the ways he wanted me to be and I was like him in the ways he did not want me to be. I was stubborn, head-strong and, as he used to say, too smart for my own good, which I think meant I was a smart-ass.

I was not a son, which he desperately wanted and never had.

There were good times too and good lessons he taught his daughters. I know how to change a flat tire and check the oil in my car. I can grill a steak, catch a fish and pitch a tent. I’m not opposed to being dirty or muddy and I don’t throw like a girl. In fact, I’d say my sisters and I are strong women because of him, not in spite of him.

And while I understand my father’s short-comings are because he had a harsh father and because his mother died when he was young, I still cannot help but wish I’d known what it was like not to have to walk around on pins and needles in my own home.

I have moments when I doubt so much that any man has or will ever love me unconditionally.

And I blame God for it because how am I supposed to understand that God is my Father when my only framework for a father-type is the one He gave me – a flawed, angry Texas cowboy whom everyone else loved, but whose children feared and hated him.

My father is still alive, though he suffered a severe brain injury 7 years ago and hardly knows me anymore. He can’t recognize my voice on the phone or my face unless I’m standing less than 10 feet away.

So, as I struggle to find my confidence in the world and come to the realization that it should have been my father who helped instill that in me, I am learning that I also have to figure out how to forgive God and my father and how to move on from wishful regret.

Road-weary and tongue-tied I return from a 2-week vacation, if I can call it that, to Texas. I rekindled old friendships and dowsed old flames, fought my way through family drama of the ugliest kind and spent some time reflecting on my life, which was easy to do with 24-hours of driving between me and home.

Far from the wind and rhythm of Chicago, I did not find myself as I had thought I ought to on such a journey.

I realized that myself was not lost. Myself was always right where it should be and by leaving Chicago, I left myself, my family, my home for something my heart was never really missing.

And today, as I sit at my blah desk at my boring job in the heart of the pulsing Chicago loop, I want to be outside in the city, breathing it in, learning from it, talking to it…not stuck at a desk doing repetitive tasks that suck the life from me.

So, I embrace you, Chicago. I don’t want to go anywhere just now.

What I’m meant to do is here.

Who I’m meant to be is here.

And I had to leave here to figure that out.

So, no more running away. I’m going to find a school I like here and start working on a PhD because it’s what I want. And I’m going to find a way to do the work I want to do even though I have no idea how and even though there doesn’t seem to be any money in it because it’s what I want to do.

God has been so good to me. I have a good church and awesome friends and unyielding passion that is my favorite thing about me.

I don’t need more.

I don’t want more.

I’m done worrying that I’m not enough. Of course, I’m not enough. I was never supposed to be enough.

And I’m sure I’ll have doubts and hate the winter and want to quit because it’s hard and I hate feeling inadequate…But I’m done quitting, done running, and done being so scared of failing that I don’t even try. I want to give myself to making a difference and stop squandering the gifts I’ve been given.

I’m done chasing the sun.