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Lost

Last summer at about this time, I was in Cancun with a friend. We checked into the hotel and scoped out the beach and pool scene before making dinner reservations. The first available spot was at 9:30, and since we were dressed and ready by 7:00, we thought we'd do some sight-seeing. This was no big deal...exchange some dollars for pesos and wait at the bus stop.

Once on the bus, I was entranced by the city...the lights...the people...the life bustling around me. We peeked out the window, enjoying the scenery. The bus made a right turn. The scenery changed from bright hotels, restaurants, and night clubs to more dimly lit grocery stores and sidewalk vendors selling tamales. I kept looking out the window, desperately hoping to see something familiar. (Just what familiar item I hoped to find in a foreign city, I don't know.) My hope faded as we made our way into residential areas of dark houses and busy streets filled with people of all ages walking to and fro. The street lights were few and far between. Every house looked the same in the darkness. Every Spanish voice sounded identical echoing in the moving vehicle. North and south collided with east and west in my head. All I could do was swallow my growing fear and frantically come up with some Spanish phrase that might get us back to our hotel.

I was lost. This is how I feel in my life right now. I'm standing in the darkness, trying to make a decision, but every path before me looks identical. This is nothing new for me. In fact, I've stepped backwards into most pieces of my life because of this. How do you choose when all the options look the same? How do you move beyond the fears of what lies along the way of your chosen path? This is why I cry. This is why I rage. This is why I feel like giving up sometimes. This is the definition of stuck.

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