Standing At The Ruins' Edge

 Perhaps you've felt that sensation too... you know, the feeling when you're back in a place that you once called home and felt safe to you... a place that spoke togetherness and vitality... a place that conveyed love... but now, here you are, standing there again and realizing all that's left are ruins. Pieces of who you used to be and what you used to do and all that was once part of a meaningful season. And yet, as much as you're in denial about it... as deeply as you wish it wasn't so... fragments are all that remain. 

I stood at my own recent ruins and contemplated the complex and mixed emotions going on inside of me. Memories of the happier times and all they brought with them came flooding back, and I longed for them once again. Mourned that it won't ever be quite the same. I honestly accepted that things have changed and I have changed and now I'm left navigating a transition that, even a couple years before, I wouldn't have anticipated. 

Part of me feels okay and part of me doesn't. Yet, in the tension, peace runs like a river. 

Staring at the shattered dreams, broken trust, damaged relationships, unanswered questions, I must admit that this has become an all-too-familiar scene. Walking among ruins has become a norm for me and sometimes I really have to ask God why. Why has so much fallen apart? Why such brokenness? When all I really long for is hope and healing, why does it feel as though things are perpetually dying and ending and leaving me time and again to start over? 

I finger pieces as things once solid now crumble to dust in my hands. Empty. Lifeless. Un-whole. 

But then... 

Yes, there's always a "but then.." because there's a "but God..." and no story is ever over when He's the One writing it. 

A severed connection I'd long given up on returns and, with it, an apology and a promise to rebuild. 

A new relationship springs forth, reminding me that lives destined to cross will always find each other because God will ensure of it. 

A message comes through from a foreign country and a fellow mental wellness advocate saying that my words have spoken and he's heard them and he gets it and I need to keep breaking the heavy silence with truth. 

And an unexpected conversation takes place in one of the very shattered spaces, and knowing replaces misunderstanding as someone comes along who sees, who hears and who believes in what's to come. Who reminds me that she's in my corner and that she's proud of the journey I've been brave enough to take. 

I open up and friends come around and suddenly, I'm not alone standing at the ruins' edge. Voices speak up and say, "You're going to rise from this someday," and I realize I don't have to sort through the pieces on my own. Community surrounds, and the hope resounds as others keep on telling me this process of making peace with the unresolved is worth it. 

You can't escape the hard things because, inevitably, the hard things will hunt you down. Haunt you down. And continue to follow you wherever you go. Because unless you face them, they will keep on chasing you. 

Unless you stand at the ruins' edge, you'll one day find you've become a ruin yourself. 

I ponder the fact that running from the ruined places never did move a soul closer to healing. Avoidance isn't the answer. Bravery is. 

I take in the infused courage. I soak up the collective love. Because that's in the end what it really is: going to the desolate places to stand in solidarity with those who have lost it all and helping them realize that one day, even this will be redeemed. 

I'm not standing here to prove a point or to draw attention to my heroism for staring down my biggest trauma-demons like some St. George who slayed a fear-dragon. I'm standing here because it's right. I want to face what was so I can begin to envision what's ahead. I want to grieve what could've been so I can create what will be. I want to gather up the remains as mementos and use them to rebuild a new life, a fresh start, a resurrected beginning. 

Maybe you have some ruins you need to walk amongst, too. If so, know I'm right there with you... standing at the ruins' edge and praying for strength to begin anew. To put to rest the shattered fragments of an old life now broken and open up my heart to what is coming next. Together, you and me, we can stand here and remind each other that it's okay to be here. It's good to be here. Because all souls that rose from their ashes took their time to mourn what the flames stole. 

And just perhaps, this site of demolished hopes can be the foundation for Hope Himself to raise something beautiful in its place. Something we cannot witness unless we acknowledge what was.