I am the little girl in pink sitting on the fence at camp, contemplating a call to Doodlefork, wondering whether I can make it there before my counselor snatches me and takes me back to Bible study.
I am the dark-haired girl in white. I will take no risks. I will sit and wait, like a good little girl, for the next Bible study to begin.
I am the unseen counselor who snatches the girl back from the edge of Doodlefork. I only want to help, to protect her on her journey. But who am I to say whether she should make the trip to Doodlefork or stay sitting on the fence, waiting for Bible study to start? Maybe I should take a detour and walk with her to Doodlefork.
I am the girl to the left, standing outside the fence. I have been to Doodlefork and back, and I know that right here is where I am supposed to be at this moment. I am engaged in conversation with my fellow travelers.
I am the woman beginning the back half (third?) of her life, holding the camera, observing fences and gates, wondering: Is this gate opening for me to pass through? Or has the storm blown this gate open, and now I need to get it closed as quickly as I can?
I am the woman who is shocked that the clock did not stop while I sat on the fence taking my own time out as I pondered whether to travel to Doodlefork or to stay where I am, where at least the challenges are familiar and known to me.
I am the woman who still does not know: Am I supposed to be in the back yard? Or am I supposed to be in the front yard?
Bloom where you are planted, that is a little saying I took to heart back when I first heard it in high school. And it worked well for me for a long time. Be content where you are, don't give in to that restless spirit. But who knows? Maybe that restless spirit is a call to change, a call to get off the fence and take a trip to Doodlefork.
*thoughts upon completing my third assignment for the Journaling From The Heart workshop.