I’ve never suffered from a dislocated limb gruesomely detached from my body. That actually sounds very painful. Let me tell you what I have suffered – a dislocated life. You know? A life torn, ripped from structure, knowing, predictability, and routine. I didn’t realize how much I liked and needed those things until my life was upended. While it was intentional, that didn’t make it any better. So here I am writing through dislocated places. It’s one of the ways out of the funk, the blur, the heaviness – the writing gives way to processing and dealing with it all. When your life is dislocated, you have to find the thread of hope the holds you together.
I wonder with wonder the lives of those who are able to rise above life’s circumstances. I wonder in disbelief of those who climb out of deep and dirty pits to places of goodness and togetherness. I wonder with awe those who slap life right back in the face after it’s nearly taken them out. I wonder, wonder, wonder … How is it the human soul can triumph through darkest valleys and rise with hope? How is it the human heart emerges, not unscathed, but stronger and more resilient with a heightened sense of “I-can-make-it-through-anything? How is it the human mind cannot fathom deep loss, but when confronted with it, summons the ability to remain wholly intact and navigating raging seas? I wonder, wonder, wonder…
When life is dislocated, I wonder. How will I make it? How long is this going to take? Who will support me when the complaint remains the same? Who will sit with me in shadow and sun while rain violently pelts our skin? I’m not giving up now. I am working through the process of living, and it’s hard work. To keep going, to keep moving forward, to keep hope in the heart when stability is fleeting and nothing is as it was becomes an arduous challenge. I don’t know that I’m up for all that kind of challenge, but I don’t really have much choice. I mean I do have a choice. I can either throw in the towel and wallow in murky doom and gloom, or I can put on my vulnerable brave and face the challenge.
Well, here I am. I know not what will come. I don’t even know which way I’m going to go. All I know is that I must keep moving forward – taking brave steps toward what appears to be good and right and noble and true. This is living by faith and not by sight. Today I remind myself how “faith is the substance – the ‘hypostasis’, the foundation, firmness, assurance – of things hoped for, the evidence – ‘elegchos’, the proof, conviction – of things not seen” (Blue Letter Bible). I’m willfully choosing to believe that what I am hoping for WILL come to pass and it cannot be beholden to what my eyes always see before me. It’s not always an easy thing to do, but I also suppose this is what it means to be on the way of living rooted and grounded.
Today I throw off doubt. Yes, it might come again tomorrow, and tomorrow I’ll face it and throw it off again. There’s no point in ignoring the depth of our emotions and perceptions. The longer I walk the earth, the more I understand how I can grow more deeply when I grapple with life’s upheavals. Things may see dislocated out of whack, discombobulated, out of order, and going nowhere. But … I have this hope that continues to anchor my soul.
I will not give up.
I will not give in.
I will hold faith.
Surely God will help me right this unmoored ship.
Linking up with Lisha Epperson for #GiveMeGrace