You cross your arms on your chest and stand on the edge of some kind of elevated platform, exposed, alone. Standing on the edge you fall backwards. The moment of terror. Oh God. And then, folk on the ground, lined up facing one another, arms outstretched, catch you. From the beginning of the fall until you feel there arms on your back, that is the moment of terror. Are they really there; will they make the catch? Chris writes well about this in one of his posts.
You wonder if they will catch you. Do you trust them enough? Coming out feels like doing a trust fall, but with no assurance there is any one there to catch you. On this end, I have few if any friends to whom I can confide. It would seem very lonely indeed, except for my connections through the blogosmos.
I have felt richly blest to have many friends in the blogosphere. We have never met, face to face. We don’t even know one another’s real names or many details of our lives. And yet you have been catching me for some time now, and I thank you.
The roller coaster of emotions has left the station. As the ascent begins, you hear that clack – clack – clack – clack of the ratchets as the lock into place, preventing a back slide. You approach slowly the top of the arc. You cross the apex. Thedescentbeginsthe bottom dropsoutthefloorfallsaway. . . . . .
The pit of your stomach is somewhere near your ears. What next, what next. . . .
Terrifying, and exhilarating. Fear in the anticipation, fear in the execution, fear in the midst of it all.
Jesus said “fear not.” Y*W* G*d says, “I will be with you.”