A Moment Finally Came

A moment finally came, ending the anticipation and cleaving my old life away in a violent chop.  For months, dread grew within me, eating at my soul and generating an insatiable hunger.  The odor of this coming moment had stunk up the air around me as I struggled against the inevitable.  I kept busy producing checkmarks for the mundane.  I expended myself with heroic efforts to ward it off.  Sometimes it enveloped me at my desk or in my truck.  Even outside, slinging words through the phone in the clear fall air, it cascaded over me like a deluge of wet, sticky sludge and pooled in a chunky, rank pile of demise causing goo.  It immobilized me.

Not just smell, but a sour, acidy, metallic taste in my mouth, an ache in my gut for a sustenance that would ease the gnawing.  Nothing I touched felt.  No static electricity or joy in smoothness.  I missed my capacity to be awash in optimism and hope.  I remembered vaguely while staring blankly.  Beauty did not penetrate my heart.  My eyes functioned to protect against collision and differentiate food from utensil.  This only, no life giving radiance and no rescue from overwhelm.  All of my senses demonstrated one thing – I was becoming lost.

Then, the moment came.  January 16^th on the phone, at my desk, alone in the corner office among the busy efforts of the twenty people who shared a dream with me, I concluded with finality that American Express guaranteed no short cut to my American dream.  The credit I counted on for my rescue strategy did not exist.  I thanked them and sat still in my chair for a moment.  No more options.  All avenues investigated and exhausted.  We were done. 

I had to go to the bathroom. 

Though there was two bathrooms available close by, I stumbled across the parking lot to my loft apartment. 

I sat.

I asked God, “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

In a moment of grace, he answered me with the following list:

1. Sit still and be quiet.            
2. Wait.
3. Love the people around you.
4. Don’t do anything until I tell you.
5. Be simple.
6. Be humble.
7. Tell the truth.
8. Get ready.  Be prepared.

This is an abbreviated version from what I wrote in my journal. 

I want to be clear for anyone who feels alone and overwhelmed in darkness with news of a dire nature – this list did not rescue me.  I still felt and often feel numb and terrified.  No light came on.  My stomach did not settle.  I felt no tangible relief of any kind.  I just knew in some instinctive, unthinking, empty way that there was a path in front of me to walk.  I knew in the same way that there was another path that went the wrong direction. 

My life, none of our lives, is anything like a sitcom.  Our problems and our pain will not be solved in 21 minutes not including commercials.  The script isn’t handed to us in advance.  We are, by faith or lack thereof, participating in its creation.  My moment existed as a part of my eternity, consequences of decisions good and bad.  I was already walking on a narrow and dangerous path frequently intersected by forks and turns.  It is a tough road to walk.

And that’s it.  There is no happy twist of fate that changes things from bad and scary to good and happy with dancing clowns and small furry animals.  Sometimes it stays dark and smelly and aches in the pit of my stomach for a long time.  I’m not saying it’s ever the end of the story, just that it isn’t unusual for the hard stuff to last substantially longer than seems fair.  It does and it isn’t.  Let’s not pretend that some cliché bit of truth will help or that things get better or easier sooner than they do.

Dreams die, people hurt, stuff doesn’t make sense, and life isn’t fair.  Seriously, there are circumstances that are truly so far beyond our comprehension of endurance, forgiveness, hope, and peace that we are incapable of surviving. 

Let’s hope there is more to the story.