Short Blog, Long Walk

August 16, 2016

Light at the End of a Tunnel

Faith is knowing there’s a light at the end of the tunnel — even if it’s turned off.

Be back soon blogging away; for now, I’m crushed by paperwork.

Meanwhile, could someone turn on that light? Please?

Oh, I see. No, I don’t see the light. I see that nobody can do it for me, and that walking in the darkness when I don’t know where each step will land or where I’m headed is what I’m meant to do. Each step I take is like the light you turn on by clapping your hands. Only this light we turn on by taking that next step.

Okay, but I’m not happy about it. Oh. Nobody said I had to be (happy). That’s my choice. How about this — I let myself feel whatever I feel. That’s a novel concept. No, I didn’t invent it.

With all the pain, anger, frustration, sadness, I wouldn’t eliminate feelings from life if someone gave me the choice. It would take all the color and passion away. No, thank you.

I’ll pass on the anti-depressants. Not because they’re bad or wrong; just because my body doesn’t like them. Dang thing wants to feel whatever is there. Can you beat that?

I’m raw. I cry. I plug away at this thing — this reconstruction of my life after “allegedly being embezzled out of almost half a million dollars” — especially when you count the added costs. Then it’s more like, well, six or seven hundred thousand dollars. What’s the price of a year of  life?

I’ve heard there’s a purpose for this. Doesn’t help me to hear that. I’ve heard God will find a way to pay me back. Then, why didn’t He just let me keep it to begin with? Ha! Got you there.

Maybe, just maybe, this rawness will spice my creativity, help me tell good stories, help you relate to me. Oh, I see. I don’t get to know what the value is until later, in retrospect. Remember what? I can’t hear you. Oh, the Language of Letting Go.

That’s what I’m talking, and that’s what I’m talking about. We don’t let go in an instant, a moment. We don’t let go without going through all our emotions. It can be an awkward and ugly process.

But it gets us where we need to go. This time, you get to see me go through it in real time. Not five years later, when it’s all cleaned up and tidy — packed away in the basement in a box.

Hey! I see that light…or is it a firefly? Guess it doesn’t matter. Light is light.

Love you all. Thanks for the suport, prayers and kind thoughts. You hold me up. Seriously. Every positive and loving thought is like someone taking my hand, energizing me, and helping me walk my path.

I’m grateful. I’m just not sure what for yet.

Plod. Plod. Plod. Sometimes that’s what we’ve got to do. It’s not forever. It’s just for right now.

Best,
Melody

From the desk of Melody Beattie
Originally posted September 28, 2011

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