Other Than Courage

People keep telling me I'm brave. I speak of what it is that I am doing, simply because it inevitably comes up in conversation, and I get a lot of raised eyebrows. Then they tell me that I'm brave. And I want to contradict them and say something to indicate how it really feels to me, but usually these conversations are just in passing, and the words don't come right away. But sitting here, in the safety and comfort of my home, on the eve of this endeavor that is slightly unlike any I've undertaken in the past, I realized exactly what it is. 

You see, when the one I've given my life to reaches in and grabs hold of something inside of me, He tends to not let go until I've followed. Doing anything else, choosing anything else when this cord that He has tied around my heart is constantly tugging me, would be like playing a record backwards, running a palm against the grain of a piece of wood, or petting a cat from tail to perky ears. It would sound scratchy and off, the palm would come away with splinters, and the feline would endure no more than a millisecond of that abuse before giving the offender a very clear piece of his mind. 

So is this bravery? Not to me. It's obedience, but more than that, it simply must be. I know of no other way to put it. I've spent my life searching for these moments of clarity, and they've been few and far between. I even told someone once that I was just waiting for things to make sense, and his response was that things would never make sense. He was right. Sometimes even the pockets of clarity are peppered with questions and doubts and nights when I feel like I'll never stop leaking tears. But that feeling in my gut, the instinct, the call: they never go away. And while they run around the room preparing to jump out into space, Logic sits in his wing-backed chair, silk robe tied neatly across his chest as he sips Cavartier and says "You guys have lost your minds." 

Because you can look at the ocean and appreciate its beauty if your toes are firmly grasping wet, sandy earth. But you'll never truly know the awe, the power, and the current; never feel the split-second heartbeat of fear from a gathering wave; never taste the salt on your lips or know the weightless peace of floating unless you dive in, head underwater and feet beyond the reach of the ocean floor. Logic can have his agreeable chair and solid ground. I'll take the ocean any day.