“All those things that weren’t supposed to happen happened. What happens next is up to you.”
Like a jolt of electricity, I shot up in bed and thought to myself, “Hmmmmm. That’s pretty fucking deep.”
Okay, it’s not THAT deep, but deep and ironic enough to merit me taking the time to write about it.
Just recently I was chatting with a friend of mine. I was discussing how even though I have traveled a long way
since my decision at the fork in the road that lead me to a dead end; and how in a stumble I found a new path, one that is
unpaved yet more glorious nonetheless, there was still something about that dead end I just couldn’t shake.
Perhaps it’s a sense of things unresolved. A hunch gone wrong. A direction misread. A compass that
failed me, perhaps even betrayed me. I’ve let so much of that go. Still there were questions that lingered.
“What happens next is up to you.”
It’s like voices in my head that come out of nowhere and begin as whispers in the middle of the night. Right ear,
left ear, then all around me. The whispers grow to full fledged echoes. My head is like the towers of Notre Dame,
and the painful memories pull valiantly at the ropes that stir the peace I have tried so hard to maintain. Why the torment?
Why now? Why won’t they just leave me alone?
There are no right answers. I’m well aware of that.
In fact, I resolved a long time ago there may never be any answers at all. Searching for answers and finding the truth,
whatever version of it may be available at the time, is of no consequence. Those answers will not create a new road
for me from the location of that last dead it. Answers will not detour me off my current path or skew my existing journey.
Answers will provide nothing except more voices to the chorus that keeps me up at 3:00 AM. I’ve learned that’s it’s not about
finding answers, but rather about finding acceptance.
“What happens next is up to you.”
It’s no coincidence my TV habits kept me up later than I wanted to. It’s no fluke that I ended up watching the
season finale of one of my favorite shows, a show I usually catch via On Demand the day after it airs. It was this show that
produced the line that inspired me to write. I would like to chalk the whole thing up to irony, but I also happen to
think irony is God’s way of saying, “Yeah ……. I know.” (Which kinda’ makes the casting of Alannis Morrisette in Dogma just
a little bit funnier.)
All those things that weren’t supposed to happen that happened; they happened for a reason. All those plans
that got deviated or altered; it wasn’t so much that things didn’t go as planned as it was I had the wrong plan laid out to
begin with. It’s in stumbling that we discover a new perspective and, as a result, a new way forward.
What happens next? I don’t really know. I do know, however, it’s not up to me. The only thing that’s up to
me is how I choose to accept what I am given. As for the rest, I place my faith in God’s will and my belief in the knowledge
that I am where I am supposed to be; on this unpaved road, with life’s difficulties always ahead of me and my Angel always
by my side.
By definition, a cliché is anything that has become trite or commonplace through overuse. One of the most overused
clichés is the God works in mysterious ways. But that’s the thing with clichés. Just like off-color jokes we laugh
at, we laugh at them because they based on truth.
Imagine you’re sitting at home, minding your own business, watching TV and getting high. A frozen dinner, a can of
Coke and a syringe with crystal meth lay on the coffee table in front you. Just a typical Monday evening. All
of the sudden, a SWAT team comes barging through your front door. All you see are laser pointers. All you hear is “Get
down. Get down!” All you can think about is what the hell is going on.
By the time you realize you’ve been raided, arrested and booked for possession, you’re sitting in a dimly lit room, unable
to control your nerves from shaking your body, and asking yourself how you ever let it get this bad. You think about
what happens next and how you’ll ever be able to recover from this. “What will they all think? What will they
say? How can I ever look them in the eye and ask them for help?” You sit in your dimly lit room with the reality
that you’ve hit rock bottom weighing you down like a ton of bricks.
I will always maintain that I am the luckiest and most blessed person on earth. For the most part, I’ve never experienced
immense failure or extreme loss. My life has been pretty text book for as long as I can remember. Even my recent
dark times, the times when I felt my world was collapsing and I was all alone, I look back on them now with a different perspective.
I see it as a forest through which I had to travel, and I know without a doubt that is pales in comparison to real tragedy.
I’ve never had that seismic event in my life. I’ve never been to the point where all my belongings were taken from
me, where all my civil innocence was revoked and where it seemed that even all my dignity had been so instantaneously depleted.
Embarrassment, humiliation, degradation; I’ve never had to exist in a constant state of those emotions.
Life is not without its challenges, and everyone struggles just a little bit every day. Yet there is something to
be said about the individuals who seem to get it correct from the beginning. The people who place their faith in God
and allow God’s will to guide them through life. What seems like mountainous adversities for us are mere speed bumps
for them. Their faith is so strong, their conviction so solid, and their resolve to make lemonade in a hail storm of
lemons should be applauded and celebrated.
Still, I think we can all relate to the keystone parable from the Bible. It’s the story about being selfish, ignoring
wisdom and pursuing frivolous desires. It’s the tale about losing direction, realizing our mistakes and seeking contrition
with those we have wronged. It’s the one about a journey back home, the long and arduous journey in hopes of being received
with open arms, and one that takes a hell of a lot more than just 12 steps. It’s about being lost and then becoming
found again.
All too often we allow ourselves to focus on the mistake, so much so we overlook the efforts of atonement that are made
as a result. In its own way, salvation – personal, religious or otherwise – should be celebrated in the same manner as the
lemonade maker who serves as a beacon for those who are lost. Actions have their consequences and retribution for these
actions should never be waived. Yet rather than a swift hand to the behind of the wrongdoer, we should instead pat this
person on the back as a gesture of encouragement and a reminder that things can be made better once again.
By definition, the word prodigal means wastefully or recklessly extravagant. Yet the parable which bears this word
in its title leads us to associate this word with repentance, forgiveness and redemption. With our ears we hear this
word and in our minds we understand that rock bottom is just the starting point of a new life. We recognize that new
beginnings are attainable, and that with God all things are possible. Life is indeed a journey and there’s nothing cliché
about that.
