The Deep End
Honestly, I am amazed that I have delayed even this long in posting about what could be my biggest life change to date, a move to Washington, D.C. Due to this, the full amount of detail would just leave your head spinning from overload. I know mine still is.
Each person and each mind is set with their own individual way of thinking. Remember back to a time when your summers were filled with a trip to the local cement pond, the community center pool. It was a place that swarmed with kids of all ages, scampering around the hot concrete as a fish out of water while the lifeguard was set on a repeat cycle of constantly shouting, "WALK!". But focus in for a second on the rounded ledge that ran just above a small tile marked "10" or even "12 feet" for the Deep End, the part of the water that was darker in color and thicker in mystery. What kind of approach did you have when you came towards that side of the pool? Did you defy the red-suited lifeguard, sprint from the far side of the sidewalk rounding the corner at top speed and leap head, back, or butt first into the unknown waters? Or did you cautiously approach that ledge, staring slightly over the concrete to see if you could get a better idea of what was down there and just when you could expect to touch bottom again? I'm the one gazing over the edge, thinking through every possible scenario, analyzing how my jump and impact with the water will affect myself and those around me.
Strange that life at many stages is not much different than a hot, smelly community pool. After two years of walking much too slowly around the outside, I had decided that all the kids who were having any fun made the flying leap into the deep end, scarily enough without thinking the whole jump through.
The initial spark hit me in a phone conversation standing just outside of the North Hulen street Starbucks in Fort Worth. It was a college friend of mine who had worked in DC for awhile and sounded so excited about it. My only experience with the city was a high school band trip in '99, a lifelong fascination of history and even a bookshelf with mini-biographies of some of the former presidents. His response when I asked him what variety of jobs existed in DC was that most places weren't hiring. After that, I decided to do a little investigating of my own. Pulling up the A&M former student directory, I searched for any Aggies around the DC area and faced them with the simple question of "what advice would you give someone searching for a communications or public affairs job in Washington." It is no understatement that I could preach for hours about the spirit and tradition of my great alma mater, but I was never so proud than to receive 20 replies of the 30 emails I sent out within a week. Most had the common theme of encouraging me to look into a job on the infamous Capitol Hill working for a Congressman. The key advice here was to get my foot in the door, gain some experience, and be able to start my own ground-floor campaign of working on staff in a congressional office. Taking my next baby step in the road to DC, I was able to contact several Chief of Staffs on the Hill. Little things can often cause the biggest difference; even a match rolled too far off the fingers can start a torrential fire. I found out on the second day of my summer Europe trip that I had landed an internship with Congressman Joe Barton of the sixth district of Texas. If you want a true experience of shock, transplant yourself into a foreign country surrounded by a different language and be informed that when you return in three weeks you have to leave everything you call home. And leave I did.
After a quick flight and a cab fare, I arrived in Washington, DC with only my two bags in tow to set up shop at the Extended Stay America in Alexandria, Virginia. Unfolding my meager possessions and firing up my laptop, I continued my search of the message boards and classifieds, looking for a new place to call home. As was becoming a common theme in my adventure, God provided. That first night, I found two great guys, one from Arkansas and one from Missouri, who had an empty room in a rowhouse just seven blocks away from the Capitol that I could rent for one month. Security and sanity were slowly returning to my life.
Appropriately, my first week in DC was commemorated with a fireworks show on the National Mall directly in front of the Capitol. With the Washington Monument as a backdrop, the bombs bursting in air gave proof through the night that I was finally there. All I could think was, "What in the world just happened? The last thing I remember is a simple little phone call outside of my hometown coffee shop!" See, it was never the point that I had to be able to make that plunge into the deep end on my own. God met me where I was, knew my nature, and still was able to craft my character into something bolder and grander. It wasn't to coddle or to protect; it was to personalize. I was stripped of every comfort except for two measly bags which could just have well been lost en route to DC, and in fact almost were! All I was left with was my faith in a provider, and a choice; take it or leave it.
Since then it has been one thing added at a time. I have learned that each day has enough trouble of its own, so there is no point in worrying over the outcome of each thought or action. I have been given personal evidence that in all things God works for the good of those who love him and have been called according to his purpose. And most importantly, that I can plan my own personal destination, even if I know that I want to eventually end up in that pool, but that God will direct my individual steps. He didn't just provide comfort and counsel in the landings along the way, but he personally formed each jump to meet me where I was and guide me to the ledge. Before I knew it, God had backed me up to nothing but the basics then given me a kick start across the pavement. Once you reach the ledge it becomes only second nature to just jump into the deep end.
By the way, this water feels incredible. Did you see that splash?
