Saturday, August 3, 2013


Yesterday I went out for a run at Percy Warner Park. I chose this particular 5.8 mile course because it is known to be one of the hilliest and best training courses for runners in middle Tennessee. As I am training for a couple very hilly half marathons, I believed this to to be a "good idea". Also, it's paved road winding through miles of gorgeous forest makes for a pretty awesome view. Anyway, being a trail run through miles of forest, I was a little nervous about getting lost, so I used an app on my phone to guide me through the twists and turns. This barely helped as I still proceeded to make a wrong turn and my 5.8 challenging hill run turned into a 8.3 mile quest for life support. Needless to say, I'm taking it easy today.

When I hit the  6 mile mark and saw the distance I still needed to cover to get back to my car I realized I had made a mistake along the way and I was no where near finished, completely exhausted, and the discouragement was setting in. I was disappointed about how much of the run I had actually walked, about my unfamiliarity of the terrain and the fact that my phone's battery life was dwindling. After a short pity party I sorted out my route and ran consistently for about a half mile when my phone beeped, flashed and vibrated to announce that the battery was very low. This is where I really began to doubt my decisions about taking this challenge alone. If my phone died, I had no idea how to get back to my car without GPS, I was completely bored with running and my legs felt like jello. I fiddled with  the power saving options and was about to turn off my music when I decided that a couple more songs would help me get my pace back and get me closer to the finish. When I felt like again I needed to stop and walk I just got angry. How did I miss a turn when I am literally following a little blip around a map and it's telling me where to go? What the heck was I going to do when I still had a mile left and my phone died, I hadn't seen another person in about 40 minutes. I was just about to turn off my playlist, but heard the familiar opening tones to one of of favorite songs, Phillip Phillips' "Home".

"Hold on to me as we go.
As we roll down this unfamiliar road.
And as this wave is stringing us along,
Just know you're not alone. Cause I'm gonna make this place your Home.

Settle down, it'll all be clear.
Don't pay no mind to the demons they fill you with fear.
The trouble it might drag you down
if you get lost you can always be found.

Just know you're not alone. Cause I'm gonna make this place your home."

In that moment I wasn't hearing the love song as Phillips intended it. I was instead hearing it as God intended it. He was saying, (and I'm paraphrasing, God is hard to quote after 7 miles of hills), "Jordan, chill out. You're not alone. Yes, you don't know where you are, but I do. You doubt your choices and your abilities but I put you right here. Hold onto me as we go down a road that is new to you, but not to me. This place of uncertainty right now is temporary in this situation but I'm going to make it your home. And spoiler alert! I have a better GPS than your phone!" I began thinking about all the questions I currently have. I began sounding out all my feelings based on my life at that moment, five days before my 23rd birthday. They all rounded out into one giant ball of uncertainty. What am I doing in Nashville? What was my purpose to move 700 miles away to become a nanny? Where in the world was the money I made every two weeks? How is it ALWAYS gone? Why hasn't my career begun? One by one, as I ran I felt answers coming to those questions. What am I doing in Nashville? Learning. What was my purpose to become a nanny? A job that I enjoy, with a family I adore and time to process. Why is my money always gone? Because the last time I consulted my budget, was the day I made it. ( I didn't need divine help with that one). My career? It's not time to find it yet; write more. I felt like he was saying he was going to take that of uncertainty, and was going to make it my home. What does that mean? I don't know. I do know that something is coming, I can feel it. I do know that change is coming soon. I don't know what it is but I guess then I've never really known my next step until it smacks me in the face. When God makes the feeling of uncertainty your home when you've been uncertain for the majority of your adult life, you don't question it, because actually it already feels like home.

I put too much stress on myself to be doing the exact right thing I am supposed to be doing at the exact right time. As a person who is habitually late, this is not the best fit for a lifestyle choice. Yes, I believe our futures are a memory of God's and that he has a plan for our lives but he never intended us to stress about it. He intended us to ask about it. The day before I was to drive back to Tennessee after going home to get rid of mono, we went to church and I was feeling doubtful about my decisions, even though I told everyone I couldn't wait to get back. One of my moms good friends and a very wise and witty lady, Joani, prayed for me. She said something that helped immensely on my transition back to Nashville and that came flooding back to me full force on my run. She prayed that I would be able to hear the directions I was being given to find the life that God has planned for me. But, that while I waited for those directions to know that any work I find, when done to glorify Him, is always on his plan for me, and makes him smile. That certainly takes the pressure off, doesn't it? It's his plan, not mine. I'm the passenger, not the driver. About the same time I came to these familiar realizations I looked up and focused on my surroundings, I could see my car. I held tight to him that last mile on an unfamiliar road. I ignored all the demons that left me afraid. I settled down, and it did become clear, he didn't promise that I would always feel certain but he took my uncertainty and he led me home.