Chasing Possible

I planned on writing all about the definition of confusion today… but I think I’ll save that post for a later date since my focus is elsewhere this afternoon.

Instead I’m going to spotlight the topic of faith.  Specifically, trusting that we can have all we want; without exception.

I’ve heard quite a bit of chatter lately about being intentional.  About creating a vision board and other concepts like it, a la THE SECRET.  And I don’t disagree with that notion; however I find it peculiar that nobody ever really addresses what is supposed to happen during the isolating time that appears after you’ve clearly stated your intention.  You know, the part where you’re patiently (or in my case, not so patiently) waiting for the result of said intention.

I understand logic as well as anyone and know that ideas and intentions take time to formulate and I also know that, even in this microwave society, it takes more than merely blinking to see things come to fruition.  I mean really, if everyone had the power to will a million dollar check into their mailbox without really having to work for it, then we’d all be rich and I for one, would not be writing this blog… I’d be in Fiji.

I’ve been taught the process of intention like this:  get clear about what you want; ask specifically for what you want; and then take action to move toward what you want… In that order.  At that point, things are ideally supposed to come to you in a myriad of ways, none of which you could have predicted.  It’s actually a really cool process to witness; when you’re in the right frame of mind.

Apparently, today is not one of those right-frame-of-mind kind of days for me.

I mentioned in my post Minding the Gap, that my husband and I are in the midst of selling our downtown condo in hopes of happily taking up residence in suburbia.  We’re both ready and anxious to make this happen for a number of reasons.  We’re in need of a bit more space (where we can invite more than two people at a time for dinner), a little bit more privacy (so our living room wall is not shared with someone else’s), and a lot more yard (100 square foot patio, anyone?).  However, we’re learning that making the decision to sell and move is one thing.  Being patient in the process is an entirely different story.  Oh, and did I mention that the real estate market is not exactly booming at the moment?

In our anticipation of moving and of finding a home that we can live in forever (oh, okay… so at least the next five years), nearly every weekend for the last four to five months has been consumed with house hunting.  We have endlessly searched for our dream house with all the dreamy features we could ever possibly hope for; setting our intention of course, on finding something better than amazing.

And we found the perfect house.

This house has EVERYTHING on our list.  Including some things that were too good to be true.  We knew for certain upon the first walk-through that this would be “our” house and we’ve pretty much been calling it that ever since.  We talk about it, we think about it, we verbally arrange furniture, and even drive by it every time we’re in the neighborhood (or within 5 miles of the neighborhood… which, come to think about it… is it possible to be arrested for stalking a residential dwelling?) 

In the meantime, we keep telling each other that being patient will surely pay off.  The timing is going to line up and the rest will be history… something to tell our children about.  Why, yes… we’ll sell our house; negotiate a great price on our new house and TAH-DAH!  Moving Day!  Tears!  Hugs!  Pictures of my husband giddily carrying me across the threshold!  Pop the champagne everyone and call the caterer because it’s time for a house warming party!  I think you get the idea.

Then today… out of nowhere… our plan was thwarted.  Someone else is buying our dream house.  We didn’t anticipate this part of the intentional process… the part where someone else swoops in before our house is sold and makes an offer before we can.

Now, if I were to put on my real estate hat for just a second and pretend that I was talking with a client of mine, I would ever so calmly remind them that if this house was meant to be, it will be.  And I would also assure them that everything happens for a reason because I know for a fact that it does.  And I would tell them that if this isn’t the house then the one they will end up buying will be much better by comparison.

But I’m not talking to my client, I’m talking to myself.  And I’m having a difficult time swallowing this one; which is why it’s even more critical for me right now to remember what it means to keep the faith.

Ironically, I was actually thinking about faith just yesterday.  Faith, by definition, is having confidence or trust in something you cannot see; a belief that is not based on proof.  My thoughts yesterday related more to my career than to my house (because I honestly felt a sense of peace about the whole house situation), but in retrospect the same theory applies.

It’s interesting to me when things like this happen because on one hand I have the ability to step outside of the situation and see things from a logical perspective.  I know without a doubt that things will work out exactly the way they’re supposed to.  However, it’s not always easy to see past the initial cloud of disappointment.  And instead of simply trusting that this too is a part of the master plan, I quickly sink into a doubt-filled abyss whereby I believe for a split second that the sky might actually fall.  I know… I know… it’s a bit dramatic.

Conversely, I am able to look backwards in my life and plainly see the areas in which my faith has served me well.  It seems that every time I let go of an ideal I get something even greater in return.  However, it is the letting go… the leaping… that is habitually my reason for pause.  Will it work this time?  I wonder.  Will I plummet without the safety net and regret having leapt in the first place?

Never once have I failed with faith as my parachute and yet I continue to question its validity.  Why?  Classic human nature?  Or an attraction to insanity?

See… it is in the leaping that we find out what we’re truly made of.  God doesn’t give us choices and push us out to the ledge only to let us tumble to our demise.  Rather, he asks us to trust that he’s got the big stuff already handled and that he heard our request.  And all we have to do is just let go.

That’s hard.

And so it goes… my heart says I know the answer.  My head insists on first having a debate until I finally exhaust my ability to over-analyze and finally just let go.

Wouldn’t it be easier to simply trust from the get-go?  And if I did… would the lapse in time between setting my intention and getting what I want be rapid by comparison?  Probably.  But even as complicated as I make it, I still know that this back-and-forth process by which I finally conclude that faith is my only option, is the very same process that makes the end result so sweet.

And so I leap… remembering that it’s not up to me to decide how I get to where I want to go… and as soon as I remember that, I cannot wait for the surprise of where I land.