i think you might laugh if you could see me now. you'd at least wonder. i'm sitting crosslegged on a sleeping bag laid out on the kitchen floor. i feel like i'm playing boat, the wood floor is the ocean lapping up against the sides of my sturdy sea craft, the sleeping bag. i've got my laptop here, my book next to me, and a glass of water close by. what else do you need? seriously. it wasn't too long ago that this was enough for me. i'm not sure what happened, but suddenly i have credit card payments and loans to think about and a job to get so i can do more than just think about them. all of a sudden there are bigger things to worry about than what's for snack. when did that happen?

i'm reading a book. (surprise!) it's one that i've seen on my dad's shelf for a long time -ruthless trust, by brennan manning. somehow those words don't seem to go together, yet they fit without trying. ruthless -that sounds like a dangerous adventure. and trust -that sounds peaceful and secure. a peaceful, secure, dangerous adventure -that sounds too good to be true.

trust is not something i know very much about. it's not something i've ever been good at -and i try to avoid getting too involved with things i'm not good at. trust requires vulnerability. it requires you to let go of pride and independence and let go. let go? what? can you even imagine what would happen if i just let go? well, we may never know because my hands are clenched so tightly i can't tell where my fingers end and my cares begin.

in his book, manning tells a story of a man meeting mother theresa. when she asks him what he wants prayer for, he says, "clarity." she says she can't do that. she says, "clarity is the last thing you're clinging to and must let go of." (see, there it is -"let go.") the man comments that she always seems to have great clarity in her mission. she laughs and says, "i have never had clarity; what i have always had is trust."

i want to trust. believe me, i do. but it always seems like such bad timing. how about in a couple of years when my loans are all paid off -how about i let go and trust then? why don't you let me finish up here, get things squared away, then i'll be ready to do whatever you say. but what is trust if you have nothing to worry about? what good is letting go if you're not holding on to anything? what kind of trust says now that i have a safe, soft place to fall, i'll let you catch me?

that's not trust. there's certainly nothing ruthless or dangerous about giving up plans that are already carried out to a tee. there's nothing scary about stepping into a dark room when you've made sure a light will go on as soon as you have a doubt. that's not even wimpy trust. and it definitely doesn't make for much of an adventure. i want more.