I’d like to clear something up, and I will try harder than ever at brevity.
I have been writing for a few years now about choosing light, focusing on the good, and maximizing the best things, etcetera, etcetera. The idea has sometimes fluttered across my mind that this mantra gives me the appearance of being an ostrich, of burying my head in the happy sands and ignoring problems. Then I decide that really I care less and less about appearances these days. So I go about the business of choosing light, simmering in Love, and enjoying the life that has been given to me. And by the way… This life, with all its heart breaks and bloody, vicious, senseless battles, with all its difficulty and disappointment, is a wildly beautiful one for which I am deeply grateful. I know that my life is charmed beyond what I deserve, and I only wish more people I love could share in it. I wish they would choose to share in it.
Last night I was confronted with the fact that perhaps appearances do matter more than I have allowed. I have been living in a way that conceals my private struggles and pain so much that people might believe I have none. They also might believe I don’t care about their suffering, although that is a vast ocean apart from the truth.
This is not meant as a band-aid for some of my private, broken relationships. And they are so broken. But I do want to make clear with anyone who reads this blog that my ongoing efforts to choose to look on the bright side, as contrived as that sounds, started for my own survival. Focusing on Love is not an act of convenience; neither is it always an easy one. (Although once you settle your nerves into the decision, it is soothing beyond words.) Rather, it has become the way I can survive. Clinging to the force of Love is, quite literally, what has kept me from shriveling up in so many ways and just surrendering to the blackness.
But there’s more. I started seeing the effects of this way of life, and slowly everything that was black and ashy took on a new moistness, a trembling vibrancy. Everything edged toward Technicolor again, and miracles became the norm instead of the day-dream. I’m not imagining this. And now pain and blackness can only distract me for a few minutes at a time. I see into the future in ways that might make you think I am perfectly loopy. (You might be right, but not for this reason.) Love is worthy of all of my trust, all of my eyes-closed, heart-wide-open faith and confidence. The hardest questions really do have answers on their way.
So what will change? I will not ever again be a person who sits and dwells in negativity and steeps herself in anger, bitterness, and malice. There is nothing nourishing about that for me or my loved ones. But I will try to be more available to people who are hurting. I am praying for the opportunities to explain some things better. Mend these broken places. And I would appreciate your prayers so much.
Don’t give up on Love. You will suffer; we all do. And it will be overwhelming and crippling at times. But there is always, always an answer that is better than what you all by yourself can muster. Like these rose petals that folded into the shape of a heart without any guidance or suggestion from me, Love will make a way.
XOXOXOXO