Baby steps

It is starting to hit me that I'm not in Utah anymore. Everything was all great and dandy until I called my old roommate / cousin / best-friend. We talked about how great life was back in Provo. When he get's hungry, he is back at home in under 15 minutes with a full fridge and an enormous quiet back yard. That's when it hit me. I could have that. I could throw in the towel, pack up my two bags and be back in Provo in under 24 hours. 

I could do that. What if... I really haven't doubted making the decision to come out here yet. But if I could come close to doubting, to the point where I look in the mirror and wish I saw the exact same person, only in Provo. I could do that, but I won't. 

I keep thinking about at talk given by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland. He said, "Don't panic and retreat. Don't lose your confidence. Don't forget how you once felt. Don't distrust the experience you had. That tenacity is what saved Moses when the adversary confronted him, and it is what will save you." (Cast Not Away Therefore Your Confidence, 1999)

I have to admit, I have wondered, feared, struggled, and blamed. I don't doubt nor will I ever that I wasn't supposed to come to New York, but I do wonder.

I literally feel like I'm standing on a sidewalk and the only light is coming from behind me. It's peaking through a door that is slightly ajar. In front me is a big black nothing. I can't even see the ground in front of me. I can feel that I'm not supposed to turn back to the door, but to keep moving forward. Because there is no light, I only trust myself to take feverishly small steps. Safe steps. Baby steps.