I've been thinking about this poem I wrote a while back ever since I left Rev. Mary's yesterday. Then I was driving home listening to John Mayer's "Stop this Train" and I just really wanted to post it tonight. His song is actually a bit different than my poem. "Stop this Train" is about not wanting things to change and wanting to hold on to the way things are with his family forever. My poem--"Runaway Train"--is about the difficulty of me changing--leaving the safe, the familiar, the comfortable, and wanting to run back to the known, to where somebody else is responsible for the framework I live in. It's about growing and stretching my wings and flying out of the nest and realizing it's really scary.
I remember the first time I posted "Runaway Train" a couple of years back. I think I called you and told you not to panic that I was OK. I'm still OK. Actually, the truth is, I'm more OK now than when I wrote it. But I still feel the familiar pull back to the safety of what I've always known. And sometimes I feel the need to be saved from where I'm headed. But not for very long, and not enough to turn back.
Rev. Mary and I spent some time on Friday afternoon praying through some monuments that I had allowed myself to erect. Things that I have allowed to hold me back from truly moving forward into God's call on my life. I have let my need for the approval of those I love hinder me so often. What if they don't see things like I do? What if they reject me because it doesn't fit their plans? That sense of insecurity and fear has brought me much pause when faced with the idea of moving forward on my own. But I know that if you truly love me, then none of that will matter to you. I know that what you most want is for me to be obedient to the leading of the Holy Spirit. It is certainly what I want for you. So this poem expresses both the desire to stay in the safety and comfort of the nest, but it also acknowledges the need to learn to fly on our own. The truth is though, we want the support and affirmation of those we love in the process of moving out of the nest. Sometimes encouragement is there, but other times, because they fear for us, or for what it might mean for them, those we love are hesitant to encourage us to step fully into the care and direction of God. At times we must push ourselves out of the nest--but doing so is a painful process--often laden with indecisiveness and vacillation. This poem is about that.
Runaway Train
He’s taking the 1:15 to Philly
And the wind is getting chilly
Won’t let the tears steal a peek
Force a smile to my cheeks
Cause inside I’m wishing
You could make it all better
With a kiss and a “go get her”
To my dreams
Daddy don’t you leave me
My doubts they are screaming
That I shouldn’t be believing what I do
I’m tired and I’m weak
Just let me sit up on your knee
And tell me that story about the doctor and the bee
Let me go
On that train, that runaway train
I wish you could fix me
Except I’m not broke
Just hoping there’s fertile ground
Under this heavy yoke
Cause inside I’m wishing
You could make it all better
By believing what’s inscribed
On my heart
Daddy don’t you leave me
My doubts they are screaming
That I shouldn’t be believing what I do
I’m bruised and I’m strained
Just let me go with you on that train
I’ll tell you that story about the one that went away
On that train, that runaway train
Let me go
On that train, that runaway train.
Originally Posted on Deep Calls
Jan. 18, 2008
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