At the fairly young age of 24, I lost my best friend, my spirit twin, in a tragic accident, on his way coming from Chicago to visit me in Southern Illinois. My life changed in an instance and has never been the same. Brandon brought my world light, laughter, and encouraged me to embrace every second as if it were my last. Back then, I didn't fully understand the lesson he was trying to convey, but I went with it, and had a ton of fun along the way. And laughter prevailed like the chimes of the church bells on a Sunday morning.
I've often been intrigued by the Catholic belief of purgatory. A place in between heaven and Earth, where wounded souls work through things before being given the key to paradise. And if you think about it, our world is split between mountain top moments that blossom into joy and valleys that lead us through the darkness, without a flashlight, feeling our way through the landscape. I have always felt Earth is purgatory. Spectacular sunsets that create instant goose bumps and dark moments, solidary. Singular. Desolate. And all of the moments in between...
Quite frankly, I have never met a person who didn't experience some kind of pain or loss; be it loss of a loved one, financial difficulties, mental health issues, addiction, infidelity, disease, struggles with anxiety or depression, physical pain that persists not for days and weeks, but for years. If you truly think about it, every single person you know is struggling with something. Trying to overcome. Looking for a better day. It's undeniable. We are all striving for perfection. Even though perfection seems like a fleeting goalpost at times.
Perhaps that's the deep rooted, hidden lesson in all of what we experience: none of us is perfect. Not one. And we never may be here on Earth. But the attempts are worth it. And God sees our hard work. Even if we don't see results now.
Years ago, in a therapy session designed to salvage a longterm relationship, I was told by my therapist that my empathy levels are in the upper ten percent of one percent. She reasoned very few feel like I do or could genuinely relate. And that no one would equal how I feel emotionally. She shared, "See if this describes you. You walk into a room, can read it, and know how every single person feels. You want to fix it all. Make all better. And you can't help it, even of your heart and soul wants to make it all better."
Silence filled the room. I had never heard someone describe how I feel every day of my life. I want everyone to be whole, happy, strong empowered. And healed. And, even at the ripe age of 50, I naively feel I can make an impact. Even though I know God's in control, Brent. Not you. And far more powerful. And quite frankly, far more effective.
I've learned at my age, each person is on a journey. That journey is singular. I've also learned none of us is truly alone in that journey. Sure, it is a tremendous blessing to have a strong social circle and a tribe of fellow humans who would navigate anything for you, and always love you unconditionally. But the journey. How you invest in it. And how you approach it, is the key. And it's yours. Not mine. Or anyone else's.
I truly believe God wants us to reveal the creation He made in us during our albeit, short life span here on Earth. He wants us to thrive. To be whole. To conquer the unique demons we've faced. He wants joy in our lives. Constant joy. And healing. Not surface level. Overwhelming healing.
When I reflect on my Dads diagnosis, and short fight with cancer, I often see what God did. My Dad didn't fear a thing. He had shared what he needed to share, and in the exact words that he needed to say. He was whole. At peace with this world and all of the chaos, moving into eternal joy. And he went, at peace, embracing the joy only heaven can provide.
None of us knows when our time will be up. A friend of mine recently lost her battle with cancer, at the young age of 59. But her journey. How she embraced life. Her faith is ever present. And remains a beacon and a life for those of us who still fight our journeys.
I went through a painful loss of one during my 20s. I have met so many in my lifetime, including the one I love, who have endured far more losses and pain.
But how you address the pain and healing the wounds in your life truly determines the trajectory of your life.
And God is there.
He wants you to experience joy. Never forget that for one moment.
He wants us to be the beautiful image He created. And He won't ever give up. Like a master artist at the pallete, His canvas will be complete. Here. Or beyond.
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