There are times I really hate where I am spiritually. I was thinking about it the other day and came up with this analogy.
It's like traveling down the road on a bus with everyone you know. Life feels pretty good and it all seems to make sense in some way. The journey may have some ups and downs, but at least you're moving forward.
The next thing you know, you're being told you need to get off at the next stop. It really doesn't make sense, especially when you realize no one is getting up to exit the bus with you. Still, off you go, all alone into the unknown. Quietly, you watch as the bus pulls away with everyone you know and everything that was familiar, and then…nothing.
Every now and then, someone will stop and offer you a ride, but you never get in. Why? Maybe it's simply fear. I mean, how can you know they are even going in the direction you need to go? Besides, you really don't know yourself where you are or where you're supposed to be. All you know is you were told to get off the bus. But in the end, it's probably more about some half-brained belief that somehow you are where you're supposed to be regardless of how little it seems to make sense. The people that offer you a ride think your nuts for just sitting there. Wouldn't it be better to at least be going somewhere? When they ask you what you're waiting for, you honestly don't even know how to answer. So you just continue to sit, holding on to this ever fading conviction that this is where you are meant to be. It is quiet, it is lonely, and it is frustrating beyond words.
And so I sit at my little bus stop, waiting, wondering, and sadly finding myself caring less and less about any of it.