From Michelle. 11 May, 2012.
Dear friends and family,
You may have noticed that I have been at a loss for words. Sometimes, the journey offers little that seems remarkable. One merely sets one’s face forward and keeps walking. My own character is tested the most when there is neither exhilarating progress nor troubling setback to cause an adrenaline-induced response. Each day is, rather, a resolute choice to keep moving. In the absence of circumstances that force a reaction, there is an unsettling silence, a broad range of possible avenues creating an awkwardly open space. At times I find myself merely sitting, staring at the wide horizon. To choose a direction in the absence of any emergent circumstances or clarifying conditions simply takes too much energy. Like drawing the first line on a blank canvas, there is a rashness, a courage, a creative flush of hope in the finished product that is required. Like any artist, I am brewing in the silence, waiting for that flash of folly or inspiration to drive me up into action and life.
Ironically, this silence, this open space directly follows exactly the kind of comforting clarity-of-purpose, circumstance-driven adrenaline rush that I now realize I crave. March and April brought waves of activity to our family, with much coming and going. I had the privilege of attending the Hillsong Women’s Conference in Sydney, Australia called Colour, three days of amazing living water for any thirsty soul. Steve and I spent a rich four days in Chiang Mai, Thailand together exploring themes of loss with a couple who are both therapists and friends. I took my mother and stepfather along with the three children to Borneo in Malaysia for a wonderful few days on the beach. Finally, Steve traveled to the United States to attend the West Coast Presbyterian Pastor’s Conference, and spend some valuable time with the excellent physical therapists at Project Walk, one of the foremost spinal cord injury rehabilitation facilities in the country. There was an obvious schedule to follow, and numerous circumstances to either experience, enjoy or overcome. Whether we liked it or not, the path forward was clear. The disruption of our daily routines served only to amplify God’s presence and voice, as strange surroundings offered new spaces to listen, new voices to hear, and new lessons to absorb. While our bodies were weary with all of the travel, our souls were deeply refreshed and enlivened.
After so much noise, the silence that has followed has been especially glaring, the daily routine especially dreary. How does one translate the emotional highs created by those experiences into lasting progress in the daily drudge? Without the driving circumstances, what direction will I choose? Sometimes, the answer is simply to get up and walk. Just as it takes courage to draw the first line, it takes courage to take the first step. But if the path I forge does not appear fruitful, I can always turn to the right or left, or retrace my steps. The open space cannot be known until I explore it. What seems a predictable direction may in fact lead to some amazing adventure or result around the next corner. In the meantime, faith may mean simply putting one foot in front of the other.
Here is what I do know about what lies ahead. I do know that I am committed to believing that Steve can heal further. Project Walk has given Steve an excellent routine that gives weight to that belief, grounded in a daily regimen, one day after the other, building toward a future hope. I also know that at this time, there is no further progress in Steve’s ability to feel from the shoulders down. I know that hot and cold are still entirely absent sensations throughout most of his body. I know that he cannot yet rise early and walk the children to the bus, or play the guitar, or throw a basketball. The variations of hope and acceptance, progress and setbacks, miracle and reality, desire and despair are infinite. But the image is not yet set. The road behind us is still short and fresh, and the possibilities ahead are endless. When the infinite variations get overwhelming and I don’t know where to go, I’m going to take just one step into the day.
I keep circling back over old lessons, taking them in more deeply. Repetition, while frustrating, is necessary. And so the verses that sink ever deeper into my soul are those I often quote from 2 Corinthians: So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen, but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. The eternal weight of glory is the certain end to which my every step will lead. While the variations are infinite, the end is sure.
Such truths do not unfold in spectacular ways, but rather quietly, etched over and over, ever more deeply into the heart. As its reality unfolds, the question becomes not so much which direction to take, but where to look. As for me, I will set my eyes to the horizon, broad enough to catch every path or circumstance, no matter how far astray it will lead.
With love,
Michelle