#5 What I Believe - Learning About Life

What I Believe - Learning About Life

I haven’t wanted to think everything that I’ve thought lately. I’ve begged for freedom—for a respite from invading hints, and both subtle and blatant reminders of events scattered throughout the past year of my life. I’ve only wanted to move forward into my future without dragging along pains from my past. 

Can anyone actually do that? 

One year ago today I entered a hospital emergency room at 5:30 am. Almost exactly twelve hours later, in a larger hospital, an anesthesiologist pushed a needle into my IV line. An icy burn surged from my wrist to my elbow before my eyes willingly closed and I entered surgery. During the induced sleep a neurosurgeon sliced my neck open and my life became altered forever. Less than 36 hours after slipping my feet into flip-flops at a predawn hour and I left home, I fumbled with the same flip-flops for my return trip. I don’t remember that ride. In fact, many things I experienced during that time and the following few weeks are lost from my memory. 

Gone.

But there are also memories I hope I’ll never forget.

 

If I’m not wearing shades of pink I usually have to specifically look at my scar in order to see it. Sometimes I pause to examine it, and this becomes a powerful moment when I remember significant insights I’ve gained because of my experience—of what life is really about. While facing the mirror something else amazing happens—I rarely recall my personal losses because the positive memories that flood over me infuse me with power that sustains me when:

***When physical or emotional pains seep through me,

***When my sudden and uninvited inabilities expose my losses, 

***When adjusting to my new life feels too hard and unwanted and I only want to rebel, 

***When my dreams seem to be swirling down the drain like an ongoing parade of sadness. 

This is when I grasp with both fists what I gained, and I hold onto the good memories tucked inside my heart and bet my future on them. 

I hold onto the good, and I smile. 

Life is good. It is valuable. It is for living. My new life is packed with barriers and boundaries of the unexpected kind. What I’ve lost is costly, and I won’t pretend it’s not, but it is also insignificant when I compare it to what I’ve gained. Somewhere during those long hours and days of fog laced by pain and sleep and recovery, I was entrusted with precious gifts of knowledge and understanding. 

I love my life—right down to my thin little pink scar. And honestly, at times over the past three or four weeks, remembering what I encountered this past year and what bumps and deep dark pits might lay ahead felt scary and threatened to overwhelm me more than once. But on the whole, and I mean the WHOLE whole, remembering the rough spots of last year has strengthened all of my memories of the good and brought them forward again. 

Who knew that would happen? Certainly not me! Today I’m more than happy and willing to pick up last year and happily carry it into the future with me and appreciate every minute of it.