A Story Of Learning To Let Go...and (maybe) Letting God

Growing up, my family would make sure we attended church every Sunday. At times it almost seemed as if our mother was determined to get us the nonexistent perfect attendance award. Maybe it wouldn’t come in a certificate, but the Lord Jesus himself would take note and allocate blessings accordingly — or so that’s how it was told to me. So to choose a Sunday morning of hedonistically sleeping past 9 am was if not only blasphemous, it certainly in the eyes of my parents just sinful and ungrateful.

Safe to say the ‘rents have chilled out significantly nowadays, or simply reconciled with the Lord that they’ve done their best. Either way, today as I settle into my 30-somethings, I think of those days both fondly and at times less so (perhaps like the true entitled millennial that the world says I am).  My early middle school youth days through high school were filled with lots of church activities — morning Sunday school, followed by worship service, then evening choir practices, and the occasional Wednesday night fellowships.

Especially in moments when I feel least myself, in moments when I am feeling lost, overwhelmed and at times crippled by anxiety, and in moments when my spirit is in most need of reassurance…

Though our family comparatively was on the lower economic side of a predominantly white upper middle class and high net worth congregation of individuals and families. By chance of scholarships provided by the generosity of the church and its members, my siblings and I would experience some of our early U.S. travel experiences and formative moments attending summer camps and other youth group activities.

During these years, the group would sing a song that still quietly soothes my ever so wandering or wondering spirit to this day. Especially in moments when I feel least myself, in moments when I am feeling lost, overwhelmed, and at times crippled by anxiety, and in moments when my spirit is in most need of reassurance that indeed I am enough and that indeed it always eventually gets better. 

Perhaps the “me” part is a point of arrival where we find the grace and peace our hearts so longs for on our lively pursuits of becoming?

The song, “Traveling Mercies” by Billy Crocket, sings a beautiful poetic reminder for the traveler on their journey, that with every daybreak to “follow the high road, and look for me there.” I guess the “me” part could be up for interpretation. Or perhaps the “me” part represents an endless journey of discovering divine mercies along our travelers’ way? Perhaps the “me” part is a point of arrival where we find the grace and peace our hearts so longs for on our lively pursuits of becoming? Ultimately, maybe the "me" part is a reminder that when the going gets tough and the tough gets going on the roads we’ve chosen to embark, that indeed going alone might allow us to go fast, but if we want to go far and make the most of this big world then we must go at it pamoja (together).

In life, to journey on roads less traveled, we must many times brave the cold, dark, lonely yet at times more scenic and certainly or perhaps hopefully more fulfilling routes. As we go about the ways of our travels, and as Crocket’s hymn continues on to sing, may we also, “take bread for the journey, and strength for the fight.” In knowing that in our excitement to travel onwards, one day we may tire and when we do, may we find “comfort to sleep through the night.” And in our moments of great uncertainty, and crippling anxiety, may we embody the “wisdom to choose at the fork in the road.” And in our darkest hour and as we battle with our greatest demons, may we never lose sight of “a heart that knows the way home.” 

In life, to journey on roads less traveled, we must many times brave the cold, dark, lonely yet at times more scenic and certainly or perhaps hopefully more fulfilling routes.

Like Crocket and the long-gone innocence or naivety of my youth, today I still softly sing those traveling mercies. With a spirit perhaps less faithful, certainly warier, and yet still hopeful, as I write this today I hear the chorus sing. It’s in this moment, I’m reminded to live and fully experience all of this gift that is life the same as I do in both my lowest of lows and highest of highs.

So if you’re like me, swimming in the ocean of continuous wondering, and wandering, here is my prayer for you:

“Go in peace, live in grace

Trust in the arms that will hold you

Go in peace, live in grace, trust God’s love

Love, O may this love be in our hearts forever”

Be well,

—MK

Listen to my full Spotify playlist “A Story of Traveling Mercies” below!

Have a song I should hear? Email me with your suggestion!

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***Note: Photo Gallery from November 2019 // pre-COVID // Dar es Salaam, Tanzania***