When it hurts to walk away...

The fork in the road.

As we approach it (and we will several times in our lives) we are faced with choices that we lead us both toward opportunity and toward loss all at once.  If we go to the left, we lose the possibilities on the right.  And, vice versa.

How do we choose?  How do we face that fork in the road and know with certainty which road we are meant to walk?  We don't.

There is no certainty.  There is faith.

Yet weren't we graced with that voice inside of us that leads the way?  That voice is soft-spoken, but ever so persistent. Some of you reading this will call that voice Intuition.  Others will call it a Hunch, or Conscience.  Some of us answer to it as the Holy Spirit.  

The thing is that sometimes we don't really want to do what that voice is telling us is the right thing for us.  Right?  Have you ever been there?  I have.

Eventually things happen in our lives where by trial and error we see that we aren't quite in the place that we want to be and we start to think of the consequences of our every choice.  Some call it Karma, others call it Consequence, and some will call it Justice.

I've learned that not one of us is above the rules.  We have the will and the choice to break them but eventually what we do onto others will be done onto us as well.  Not to punish us, but to help learn and reinforce that He made us so that we could love each other, not so that we take away from each other.

So what happens when we've lived a certain way, alongside other individuals that we care about, but we come to that fork in the road and realize that is not the life that we want?  Sometimes caring for those people  means staying on a road that we know we don't belong in.  And, we know our path is elsewhere.

Does that mean you love them any less?  No.  It only means that in order for you to live your destiny you may have to walk along a parallel.  In my heart, I hope that one day our paths may merge again.  Until then, I have to follow the voice that is calling to me even if it means walking alone.

May you walk in faith, and walk the in the path that leads you to joy, to peace and to love one another.

...May we find each other in that journey.

It's okay to be sad.

The past year has been so powerful for me.  I learned that my inner voice is so powerful, yet I had to silence myself in order to make out her verses.

Some wonderful and delightful discoveries happened for me this year.  I look forward to sharing some of those with you in the coming months.  What I can earnestly tell you is that the brightest moments seemed to be borne of sadness.  Why is that?

I realized that if all had gone according to plan, I may have been too distracted to propel my spiritual and emotional growth, or my plans for the future.

Complacency.
 Jimmy Carter once said, "I hate to see complacency prevail in our lives when it's so directly contrary to the teaching of Christ.".

Those who know me best know that I have always been a very spiritual being, and my belief in God has always been strong.  I recently learned that it's not enough.   
(I can never force my views or my growth on any other individual, but I can share with you what I have personally learned and discovered.  You will choose your own path.)

Sadness made me fervently seek some answers.  Those answers brought me back on my own personal journey and relationship with God.  All my life I've tried to follow this narrow path, with a laundry list of rules.  I recently found that it's so much simpler for me than I had ever realized.  Love.One.Another.  

Loving your neighbor as you love yourself.  If we love others that way, wouldn't everything else just fall into place?  

What if we all did our part?  I find that as people we often commit to "doing our part" when things are okay.  Where humanity often falls short, is when things are tough.  Do we have the ability to commit when it's the hardest to do so?

Recently I've been assimilating my life experiences, my joys and my pains with what I'm learning in Bible studies.  Interesting.  This is what I found...  Answers.  

Before the last supper, Jesus dressed in a loin cloth washed the feet of the disciples. He set an example for us to follow.  If the Lord did that, then why can't I love and help my neighbors the same way? 

My pastor recently said something that made me think.  He said that when we find it most difficult to love another the way Jesus showed love for others, to look at that person with a new set of eyes.  Look at that person as your brother/sister, husband/wife, mother/father, friend, a person who needs your kindness and protection.  That really hit home for me.  Isn't that what we all want?  To be treated that way?

I have found a way not to reject my sorrows or despair, but rather to harness my sadness in such a way that it has brought me closer to the answers that I seek.  Who knew that they were written in a book some couple of thousands or years ago, waiting for me to receive them with an open heart?   Did you know?

Courage For An Unremarkable Day

A recent ordinary moment where I couldn't have possibly loved her more

As our days dance through the hourglass, I often find myself wondering where does time go.  Where are those ordinary yet elusive days that become hard to remember because nothing special happened on that particular day.

Days sometimes seem ordinary until tragedy strikes.  Or so it seems.  In my darkest moments I've longed for the ignorance and bliss of those unremarkable days.  Those days where we go on with our daily routines,  uninterrupted. 

Etched in my mind forever is the moment when I realized what really matters the most in my life.  Love. Love for my daughter, love for my family, people, my work, the world and God. 

It was during the time when my daughter was fighting for her life.  Her doctors weren't sure if she would make it through.  My family and I never gave up hope though.  We never let go of our faith. 
I was only comforted by the prayers of our friends and family resonating through the skies. I felt it in my heart.

I was alone in a room looking out of a large 7th story window in the Children's Hospital.  I thought back to an abyss of ordinary days that was my life before that moment.  I felt disconcerted and even ashamed of all of the trivial things that I had hoped for and stressed about. 

In that moment it became clear to me that all that I needed in my life was love. The love that I longed for most was that of my little daughter. I wanted to feel her little arms wrapped around my neck as I played with her and carried her. I longed to hear her giggling in the back seat of my car as we drove around in the car acting silly.  I daydreamed of all the future "ordinary" moments that I wanted to share with this little girl of mine.

Before then, I had looked at her in awe of how lovely and small she was.  I remember having thought how beautiful she was and wishing that she could stay that way forever.  Yet, in my moment of despair I longed for and prayed for nothing more than to see my child blossom into a lovely, healthy woman. 

I prayed that God would bless her with health, a life with meaning and old age to reflect on her own ordinary moments. My heart goes to Heaven in prayer that one day she is an elderly woman who can remember the lives that He allowed her to touch, and that she remembers a life filled with love.

Today, she's almost taller than I am and quite the young lady.  I can assure you that although sometimes I am nostalgic, I am never sorry to see her grow up and mature.  I'm well aware of how He has blessed her, and how hard she's fought to continue to become the woman that she will be one day.

That same epiphany of 12 years ago continues to teach me today.  Moments don't become remarkable only when tragedy happens.  They also become remarkable and blessed when miracles happen, and we allow faith to light our paths, even in our darkest hours. 

Where have I been, you ask?

The notion of "finding one's self" always seemed funny to me.  I always know where I am.
I'd often read about celebrities that went off to another continent to meet their destiny and find God.

For me, and thankfully for my budget, I didn't have to leave the comfort of my home.  I've always felt that God lives within us.  I can always find Him when I look for him.

I just needed to be quiet for a while so that I could actually hear Him.  That's right friends. All this time, all this sorrow, and all this frustration and in the end, all I had to do was to be...quiet.

Silence can be so loud.

Today, I'm happier and more fulfilled than I have been.  I had to let go of things, of people and of the past to get here.  It has been worth it, and I look forward to sharing that with you soon.

I've missed you.