I Can Go the Distance

WARNING: This post is oozing with references. If you're not a total geek, you may want to open up Wikipedia on another tab right now.

"You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you." - Walt Disney

Now there's a guy who knows what he's talking about. Not an easy life, had Walt. But you wouldn't know it because of the legacy he left, now would you?

Well, no use denying it - 2016 was AWFUL. Holy peanut butter sandwiches, Batman. It was bad. I'm not a pessimist, a whiner, or Grumpy, but there is nothing wrong with stepping back and observing:

To say otherwise would be false and untrue and lying. However, because it was so bad, I learned a whole list of valuable things. But first, let's jump back a bit.

If you read my last blog post then you'll know why I had a horrific year. I don't condone murmuring, but this year really was one big pile of poo, pardon my French. I would have given anything to stop being me, or better still, just be dead. On numerous occasions I was beyond ready to just snuff it. It was going to be such a beautiful funeral. A choir was going to sing "The Impossible Dream", they were gonna play the bagpipes at the graveside service, there was going to be an inscription in Elvish and a Deathly Hallows on my headstone, and everybody was going to be crying like they didn’t know how they’d survive without me. Sigh. I was gypped.

But you know something? Even after all the H-E-double broomsticks I endured this year....I'm OK. I'm a year older, a bit wiser, and best yet - I have a greater capacity to keep going. I earned my emotional black belt, thank you very much. And because of my experiences, my empathy and compassion have grown exponentially.

Toward the end of this year, I had the delightful opportunity to play Mary Hatch Bailey in "It's A Wonderful Life", a dream I thought would never come true (particularly not in 2016, when life seemed determined to have its cake and eat mine too). In that role I developed a greater understanding of George Bailey's plight, but especially that of the whole human race. The show itself touched my heart, yes, but more importantly, I met people there that I needed and that needed me in return; suddenly I found myself offering comfort and service to those who were experiencing trials not unlike the ones I'd already endured. I could feel their pain, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I actually knew how to help. Coincidence? I think not!!

So after what was quite possibly the Dead Marshes of my life, the time came when I finally found myself saying, "Oh."

No longer does the thought, "Why me?" cross my mind without the immediate response, "So that you could know what this feels like", or, "Because I knew you could do it," or even, “Because I need you to be a little stronger,” flashing right back.

Because I endured unspeakable things, I know how it feels to be “just like everybody else”. Because I did time in the pit of despair, I can connect with my fellow men on a level that I couldn't have done before - the hopelessness, the pain, the vulnerability, the loneliness, the darkness, the dementors closing in, the fear that the sun may never shine on you again, so you'd better just get used to it. Simply put: I get it now. And I couldn't have gained that knowledge without, like Hercules, having my strength taken away and being made to feel completely weak and helpless.

If there's one important lesson I've learned, it's this: Courage is rarely manifest through large acts; it's usually manifest through small ones. It's rarely witnessed by anyone other than God. It's practically never recognized or celebrated for what it really is, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve credit for it. Heavenly Father is cheering you on every step of the way, whether your breakdowns and personal pep talks are witnessed by anyone other than Him, or not. I know He saw me turn on "The Battle of the Pelennor Fields" Lord of the Rings track in the car before school in the morning, even if nobody else did - and I bet angels were silently crying, "DEATH!!!" along with me in the seat next to mine as I accelerated up the hill. He saw me pack my lightsaber every day before I left the house. He heard me cry, "Expecto patronum!" at the darkness night after night after night, and I testify that He sent a patronus in the form of angels to watch over me night and day. He knows how much chocolate I've consumed this year and why. He knows how hard my personal quest has been, and He recognizes every effort to try “When [my] arms are too weary to reach the unreachable star."

But dang it - I KNOW now how the Riders of Rohan felt charging onto the Pelennor Fields against an army of 600,000 orcs. I know how Atticus felt when he took the case to defend Tom Robinson when he suspected he wouldn’t win. I know how Colonel John Rouse Merriott Chard felt at the battle of Rorke’s Drift when he heard the echo of thousands of Zulu warriors pounding on their shields in the distance. I know how Harry felt when he walked into the Forbidden Forest alone, thinking he'd never come back.

And in retrospect, isn't that a COOL feeling? 'Cause guess what - it means I have really lived and I have really fought - in some cases, for life.

God knows you. He understands how difficult this is for YOU, even when no one else does. And not only does He provide ways for us to accomplish seemingly impossible tasks, but He allows us to be the heroic force in the lives of others to help them accomplish theirs. Doesn't that make it all worth it?

We'll never know how many George Baileys we have encountered, or whether or not we've helped them off of that bridge. But doesn't it feel wonderful at those times when we do? Isn't it wonderful to be part of the work of saving souls?

But how can we do that unless we ourselves have been there? Isn't that how the Savior helped us - by descending below all things, taking on the infirmities of His people, and engraving us on the palms of His hands?

Yes, 2016 was AWFUL. But here is the list of valuable things I took away from it:

1. Courage is crying yourself to sleep every night, but still getting up the next morning.

2. Real empathy and compassion only come through suffering.

3. Sometimes it's better for Heavenly Father not to take away the pain, if it means you get to become a wise, old, Jedi master as a result of it.

4. Small and simple, achievable goals are okay.

5. God is making you into what HE wants you to be, and that's gotta be a lot better than anything you've got in mind.

6. Forgive and let go. Don't drink that poison anymore.

7. A detour is never a waste of time if you learn something along the way.

8. If you want to win friends and influence people, you need to suffer first. Anybody who says otherwise is selling something.

I survived this mess. My outlook on the future is forever changed. Though there are moments when I cry out as John Adams did, “Is anybody there? Does anybody care? Does anybody see what I see?!” I can also say with him, "Through all the gloom I can see the rays of ravishing light and glory."

I know that as long as I don't quit, as long as I keep fighting, I know ultimately what the outcome of my life will be. I know that good old Sam was right when he said,

“It’s like in the great stories - the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, and sometimes you didn’t want to know the ending, because how could the end be happy? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass, a new day will come, and when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you - that meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think I do understand. I know now; folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding onto something: That there is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for.”

Pain is temporary. Trials don't last forever. Things may get pretty bad, but it's never worth jumping off a bridge. This life is a gift, with which we can do so much good. "Each man's life touches so many other lives, and when he isn't around, it leaves an awful hole." We can have the opportunity to be a George Bailey or a Clarence in the lives of those around us.

But we have to reach outside ourselves. We have to look at the big picture. So you've had a few setbacks. Yeah, well. So have all the greats. By Grabthar's Hammer, you can pick yourself up and make the most of it. Not every trial defines you, nor is it always given to you for YOU. Sometimes it's for the sake of others - because everybody needs to be rescued, and sometimes God lets you be the hero. If we can just open our eyes and see that, then it’s so much easier "To fight for the right without question or pause, to be willing to march into Hell for a heavenly cause....”

I know with all my heart that God has a plan. I know He can be trusted. I know that there is a point and purpose to every trial, and if we will only put our faith in Him God can work miracles and we can be an instrument for good in the lives of others. He doesn't give us problems because he wants to watch us suffer. He wants us to become something more. We all have that potential. And I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to that day when, after all this is over, “A great, warm welcome will be waiting for me. The crowds will cheer when they see my face, and a voice keeps saying, ‘This is where I’m meant to be.’” They are just waiting beyond the veil, they are screaming your name from the sidelines, and they are pushing the back of your handcart.

I will find my way. I can go the distance. I’ll be there someday - if I can continue to be strong. I know every mile will be worth my while. And I will endure anything to return home to the presence of God - where I really belong.

It was, and is, all worth it.

The Gryffindor Scarlett O'Hara

I think the one thing that's harder than admitting when you're wrong, is admitting when you've emotionally been confined to a wheelchair. I don't claim that my trials are harder than anyone else's, but I can say that for a while I thought I was a goner.

After Christmas I met with a series of unfortunate events that led me into a deep, unrelenting depression. I won't go into detail about what happened. All that my audience need know is that the memory of what transpired is enough to send me emotionally into a corner, cowering like a little child. My mind went into a kind of survival mode that made my body forget how to take care of itself; I hardly ate, I hardly slept (and when I did sleep there were endless nightmares), I forgot to shower and or keep my space clean, and I was neglecting my two dogs, Wilber and Percy. It wasn't until after Wilber had run away for the third time within a week that I realized what was happening and knew that on top of everything else, I had to let go of my two most valuable possessions and faithful friends because they deserved better. I sold them to a kind couple that I knew could meet their needs. I was so numb I don't think I even cried. Needless to say, by the end of March I felt myself becoming a little unhinged - and that is a very scary feeling.

I probably don't need to mention that by this point I had had it. I was done having my cuts heal over, only to have the scabs ripped off again and again with each new breakdown. I was sick of treading water and never getting anywhere (but sustaining major leg cramps and choking on water), being constantly kicked while I was down, and having so few glimpses of light in my dark, dank dungeon of an existence. The injustice was intolerable. By now I questioned whether God would ever again spare a happy moment, or if my lot was to stay used to disappointment because I would never get anything else.

The post traumatic stress that resulted from all of these things combined has given me an entirely new perspective on the meaning of the words "helpless", "broken", "weary", and "beaten". The lack of sleep mingled with nightmares persisted for months, the tiniest emotional trigger could send me into a nervous breakdown, and regardless of my attempts to eat normally again, my body kept losing weight at an alarming rate. It wasn't until late June, after I had dropped to 114 pounds, and when one day I began gagging on anything I put into my mouth, that I was taken to the emergency room.

It was not until this time that I finally told my closest friends what was happening. Up until then I had kept it to myself. No one likes losing their power of independence, or having to explain why they haven't had a job for over 9 months, why the anticipation of being away from home alone for only a couple of hours at a time caused anxiety and dread, why they avoid conversation with anyone outside of the family for months and months, why for weeks they could only sleep with their stuffed Baymax in their arms (everyone needs their personal healthcare companion) - or least of all, admitting it to the people they love and admire most in the world. My feelings of self worth had shattered completely.

Letting the world in on my humiliating circumstances was difficult. Had it not been for my desperation, I could not have done it. And ultimately, had it not been for the angels on this and the other side of the veil, I shudder to think what might have happened to me. By now I had begun to understand the meaning of the words, "patience", "humility", and "I can't do this alone".

For the past little while I've had a passage from Isaiah running through my head - one that I find easy to remember thanks to Handel's "Messiah":

"He was despised, rejected, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." - Isaiah 53:3

These past 9 months have filled me with a gratitude for this truth on a level I'd never known before. We all go through very uniquely trying experiences that no other person can truly understand - except for He that truly descended lower than us all. I know for a fact that it is in our lowest points that we are closest to our Father in Heaven and most capable of change, and it is only after extreme trials that we can truly learn patience, empathy, and strength, as is taught to us in the writings of Paul:

"....My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in my infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then I am strong." - 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

God lets us go through horrific things not only because He loves us and wants us to learn things we could not learn in any other way, but also to prove our own strength to ourselves. In learning how to cope, to be positive in spite of our circumstances, to roll up our sleeves, forget ourselves and go to work, to keep telling ourselves we are not and will not be beat, to keep rising rainy day after rainy day, we become every bit as great as God designed us to be, and as strong as He always hoped.

One of the greatest literary masterpieces of the 20th century takes place during a little event called the American Civil War, and centers around a green-eyed piece of work named Scarlett O'Hara. Now there's a Slytherin if there ever was one (green is truly her color). If Scarlett has one desire above all others, it is to become like her mother, a true southern belle known throughout the community to be a great lady. Unfortunately, Scarlett has a few personal quirks that make her despised by most people she meets, such as selfishness, behaving in a distinctly unladylike fashion for her time, and using any means to achieve her ends. Despite these seemingly negative traits, throughout the course of her story Scarlett learns the meaning of extreme sacrifice, courage in the face of adversity, perseverance, determination, and doing what must be done in order to survive. Though very few understand her motives, and though we may not agree with her choices, we cannot ignore her grit, nor the fact that it and it alone ensured her survival. Though the refined and delicate character of her mother was all that Scarlett ever wanted to be, we all know that Mrs. O'Hara could not have survived the same challenges that Scarlett faced - and she didn't - and that Scarlett, though unconventional, is ultimately the stronger of the two.

Though my own trials have been unconventional and hard to put to words, I know for myself that had I not experienced those lonely, incomprehensible things, I would not be who I am today. Had I not trudged through months and years of these never ending frustrations, I would not have learned the meaning of the words "empathy", "understanding", "compassion", and "Christ-like love". I would not have come to look in the mirror and see, not just a thin, pale girl, but a survivor. As Shakespeare said, "Though she be but little, she is fierce." Well, that's who I really am. And now as I gaze in the mirror, I begin to see that.

Did it hurt? Excruciatingly. Am I yet whole? Absolutely not. Was it all worth it?

Yes.

Because I know for myself - I am one tough cookie. I am not a push over. I do not give up. I am a true Gryffindor. As they sing in the Gentri song,

"....I'll fight 'til I win, proud of the cost of my battle scars...."
Listen to it here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hiTwY1nQjCE

I stand here today, bruised and scarred, but stronger than ever. I am a daughter of the most High God, and I am a Scot. And I raise my fist as did Scarlett O'Hara, turn my eyes to the fiery orange sky, and this is what I say (cue the pipes - "Gone With the Wind" theme, if you please):

"As God is my witness, I will never give in. I will never surrender. So bring it on - and do your worst. You can't break me. And heaven help anyone who should try. I was built to last. My veins run Gryffindor red, spiked with pure Scottish stubbornness and grit. I am the one and only 'Gryffindor Scarlett O'Hara'."