I Ask the Stars.

I'm learning to take comfort in my backwards life.

I still struggle sometimes, with the desire for "normality". People with normal lives aren't questioned, cautioned, asked to justify themselves. Instead, they are applauded, praised, considered a success. Rather than having a panic attack when asked about their future, they can calmly give a response detailing their educational, financial, career, and marital goals. They know the kind of car they want to drive, the kind of house they want to live in, and have already begun a college fund for their 1.5 children.

And when my own response is an awkward shrug of the shoulders, I'm already inwardly cringing at the expressions of disbelief I know I'll receive in return (their thoughts, loud enough to hear, what is wrong with you, what are you thinking?), and a (large, loud) part of me wishes that I had my life together, neatly packaged and ready for send-off into a big, bright future I've sculpted with my bare hands.

But I'm learning to take comfort, in this rather unsettling brand of insanity that is my life. I'm learning to set up my sails and trust the wind that carries me. I'm learning that I love you, but I don't need you, to tell me I'm alright.

I've placed my compass in better Hands.

It's been a long time since I've seen it. And there are moments, stretching painfully long, when my faith wavers. On those dark and desperate nights, I look up with pleading glance, and ask, Where, oh where, am I?

And the stars reply, with their twinkling eyes: Little child, of little faith. Do not fear; you are on course. These waters are drawing you, ever North.