I'm crunching through Laurelhurst Park, pretending to be a photographer, and acting like I'm not lost. I find myself surrounded by dying trees, fall air that bites at my lungs, and a wife.
Ten months ago I was restlessly waiting to make a move: preparing for a trip around the world, finding God again, and falling in love with a girl. Looking back, I see the adventure I belong to is far more incredible than the one I was planning. I'm relearning how to read stories; how to love stories. My mind collapses as I try to comprehend this intricate novel of which I am a part. The deeper I go, the more I realize that this isn't a story of a million different heros working out of their own little corners. This whole thing is a story of The Creator Hero.
I'm back to studying for tests and surviving on minimum wage. And as I learn more about what true love looks like, I see my selfishness running deeper than I ever imagined. The more I try to root it out, the more tenacious it becomes, and I learn to die all over again.
