Stuck In a Holding Pattern
The oddity of that sentence doesn’t even give me pause! It’s where I’m at. And now, I’m so grateful that this point in my life is also filled with such joy.
I never quite felt comfortable in the tire house. No matter how much I kept telling myself that a house only becomes a home when you open your heart to it, I just couldn’t find passion for that place. I couldn’t make it mine.
Every day, I wake up grateful and excited in the hangar. My house is warm! I’m not wearing long underwear inside. The stovetop works, and water doesn’t take 15 minutes to heat for tea! And the microwave – even that works here. (At the tire house, you had to warm the microwave buttons with a hairdryer for a few minutes in the winter.)
I am not taking this grateful change lightly.
You may be sensing something else here. There’s an explosion of creativity.I’m experiencing it in my work; Martin’s finding it in his, too. We needed this.
All year, we’ve been in this flight pattern, trying to leave the place where we were and get to where we dreamed of being. I’m sure you’ve been in a commercial plane that can’t land before. You’re right next to the airport; you can see the runway out your little window. Yet the pilot isn’t taking you home! He gets on the intercom. “I’m sorry folks. We’re just going to be cruising around here until we get clearance to land.” He’s waiting for the tower to tell him its his turn on the runway.
Holding patterns can emotionally drag you down. It’s worse when you’re the pilot who took off on that adventure and now you can’t get back down.
This last month, it’s been our turn to leave the holding pattern and land ! We’re coming in.
(Flying to a wedding in September)
We’re also coming into ourselves.
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I have so many crafty and creative ideas running through my blood that I fear I may burst.
Martin and I jump onto the radio. We repeat the tower’s instructions to exit the runway. And just like that, we’re taxiing not just to the place where we live; we’re heading home.