Savannah Jaye

I have this friend and the last time we talked was a couple days before they would be driving through my hometown and they had mentioned wanting to stop by and see me on their way through, but for reasons unknown to me it didn’t happen.

My entire life I’ve lived 1 minute and 32 seconds (depending on that pesky red light) from the on-ramp to I-75. My entire life I’ve been able to sit outside and watch as people drive north or south on the interstate. My entire life I’ve asked myself what they’re running from or running to.

Sometimes I’ll watch the overpass and ask myself what type of people are driving over it. I’ll wonder what type of business they’re conducting. I’m curious if they’re people I know or ever will know at sometime in my life. It’s interesting to me that somebody I didn’t know could be driving North on I-75 as I drive under the over pass heading east on Georgetown Road and though we’ll never know it, our lives having intersected for some tenth of a second. When my friend (I suppose I’m using that term quite loosely, considering that we haven’t talked since) never called or texted me about meeting up, it just so happened to be on a day where I had to drive under that overpass a ton, and each time I drove under I wondered if it was our lives intersecting in that moment and if that moment would be the last time our lives would ever cross paths.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurt by the fact that I didn’t get that last opportunity to see them but it may have been for the best, the truth is that that was a friendship we had both been trying to run away from for a long time. I wish we hadn’t chosen to run away from something great, mainly because I’m not sure why it was exactly that we were running. Sometimes something inside of you just tells you to go, and so we give in and go even though we don’t know where we’re headed.

Just like my friend and I, I really do wonder if the people driving down that interstate know what they’re running from. Is it from from fear? Is it from commitment? Is it from love? Is it from dreams? Is it from a past? Is it from insecurities? All too often I catch myself running away, getting startled and bolting in the opposite direction, heading straight for the door. Somebody recently said something to me, “When you run, make sure you’re running to something not just away from something else.” It’s something I’ve thought a lot about lately, making sure I didn’t just go, but know why I was leaving and where I was headed.

Recently, for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t get scared. That’s a lie. I wasn’t just scared, I was nervous and excited and scared and terrified and petrified and horrified and all sorts of other “-ied”s. But for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t let that get the best of me. I convinced myself that being scared wasn’t a reason to run away, instead it was a reason to run towards something better than I had known before. I was fleeing from a girl who was anxious and emotional, who was hurting and sad, who felt worthless and abandoned.

I think that’s the difference between running away and fleeing. When you flee, yes, you are leaving something behind but it’s because you’re running towards a promise of something better and greater than what you knew before, a promise of peace and safety and restoration. You’re running with a purpose. Running away is often times just going with frequent looks over your shoulder, hoping what you’re trying to leave behind doesn’t catch up with you. 

I’ve learned that doesn’t work though. The past, the mistakes, the failures—they follow you. They are not things you can lock away in an unused linen closet with old towels that you hardly use. The past is at your front door, standing in your bathroom, and sitting at your kitchen table. The only way to face those fears isn’t by running, but by resolving. And then resolving again.