July 2, 1981. That was the day in my personal history when I first shook my fist toward the Heavens, silently vowing to prove there was no God. I was sixteen and my brother had died five days before. Even though his death came as a shock to me, he had already died many years before for our mother. She knew his lifestyle would win... she knew she'd outlive her firstborn child and only son. But for me, I was still too young and naive to believe the writing on the wall. So for the four days following his shocking death, I moved robotically through the motions of accepting condolences and casseroles from my parent's friends and neighbors. I slid on and off lightly padded chairs during the two long days of his visitation and funeral but usually I could be found hovering quietly on the front porch of the funeral home where I could busy my mind with observing the long procession of the masses slowly making their way into the viewing room, a place I refused to go until the funeral director could assure me the casket was closed. For days I numbly shook hands with complete strangers, accepted their sorry-filled glances and eventually stood stoically at the graveside service. For those few days, I warmed up the delicious food given to us by caring friends and then threw it all in the garage. I slept little and spoke even less. The Universe actually stood still...for four days. And then the fifth day came.
On the fifth day, reality set in. No longer could I move through the day with preplanned efficiency. On July 2nd, reality came crashing down. I remember sitting alone in the porch swing, swaying back and forth in a trance. On the outside, I must have looked like a patient just emerging from surgery, still slightly drugged and confused by her unfamiliar surroundings. But inside my mind was whirling, desperately seeking a logical answer-someone to point a finger at-a place to lay the blame. And I found it. At fifteen, my brain refused to see the truth for what it was. Instead I firmly decided the fault must lie with God...or actually must be proof there was no God because what kind of God would allow this to happen to my brother, a guy with some troubles but a really nice guy. And more importantly, what kind of God would allow this to happen to me.
I realize now that I never truly stopped believing in God, no matter how much research I did to prove His nonexistence. What I lost was my belief in faith because even though I knew my brother's lifestyle would probably end his life, I also had faith that someone or something would save him. So when he died, so did my belief in faith. Even though I said out loud that there was no God, what I really meant to say was that I no longer had faith in Him...from that day forward I believed we each control our own destiny and God had nothing to do with it. In fact, God really didn't give a shit what you do or don't do with your life.
It's taken me a long time to regain my faith but it's not the same naive belief of my childhood years. I suppose we can never truly go back, at least not back to where we were but we can find some version of our past to cling to. So eventually over time, over many, many years of time, I regained my faith but it's still not the kind of faith spouted by most religions of today. Do I believe there is a God or something greater than myself out there? Absolutely. Do I have faith in it? Somewhat, sort of...maybe. I believe there are markers on our timelines that we are destined to cross, preplanned hurdles we will encounter. These markers are strategical places throughout our lives at different intervals for each of us. But between these markers are moments, days or even years filled with free-will. It's in these empty spaces that we make the choices that bring us closer to our life's purpose or veer us horribly off course. And it's in these blank moments in time where God doesn't give a shit about our choices. Looking down at our timeline like a Monopoly board, God knows it doesn't matter how many times we draw the "go directly to jail, do not pass go and do not connect $200" card, we will eventually have to cross Boardwalk. He knows because he can see the whole board and He knows where the unavoidable markers are and how close we are to the end. He knows if there's still several hurdles in our path or if we are three squares from the finish line.
It's in these free-will moments of time where I've spent most of the last thirty years. Yes, there were some unavoidable hurdles placed in my path but I used those hurdles as markers in my past, reference points that I could look back at and measure how far I'd come...literally tracking my progress in life. I placed those hurdles on a mantel like trophies won in hard-fought battles. It wasn't until I rounded the final turn that I realized I'd caught my shoelace on the first jump and instead of clearing each structure triumphantly, I'd actually been dragging them behind me. So busy was I humming the Rocky theme song, I failed to hear the metallic sound of those obstacles from my past being raked against the ground behind me or feel the weight of the barriers slowing my speed as I pushed myself toward the finish line.
I can't say for sure when the exact moment was that I realized I'd been running the wrong race for so many years but I know it wasn't an instant revelation. I know the Universe had been whispering the truth in my ear for most of my life, but like a nagging headache I thought if I ignored it then it didn't exist. I know it was low rumble in the back of my mind, quiet but insistent. I recognize now how it grew in intensity every time I cleared another hurdle without noticing how it was now tangled up with all the other ones I'd been dragging along behind me. I know with each ignored hurdle the beat of that drumming headache became louder and more demanding until eventually it was impossible to ignore. I know I tried my whole life to convince myself I was anything but what the low rumbling drum insisted I was. I know those damn hurdles were God's handiwork and no amount of pretending could make them go away.
I've spent the last year enjoying the peace and quiet of life without those damn drums in my ears. I've spent the last year arguing with myself that this is my destiny..but maybe it needs a little tweaking. I've spent the last year talking myself into it while trying to talk myself out of it. I've spent the last year frozen in fear because if I do this, if I take this last step, then I am completely naked. I am stepping out of all the light I've ever known into complete darkness and I've got to have faith that there will be something there for me to stand on or I will be taught to fly. I've got to believe in faith again. I've got to believe like I've never believed before.
The truth is, I've spent the last year finally looking at my past, examining each hurdle-noticing the scuff marks where they'd been smacked against the ground a thousand times and recognizing the one thing I've been missing for so long. These hurdles placed in my path haven't been obstacles or barriers to the life I wanted. If I'd only had a little faith in the greater plan, I would have recognized their true value. Had I had faith in a higher purpose and stopped long enough to examine these objects, I might have realized that when gently laid on their sides, these obstacles become stepping stones creating a staircase leading me in the direction I was meant to go all along. I stopped believing in faith thirty years ago because I refused to believe the truth. And now to live my truth, I have to have faith. I've spent thirty years examine the wrong side of the coin because I've been too afraid to turn it over.
But tomorrow is a new day filled with light...and I've not afraid of the dark.
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