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Emerging From The Tunnel (Part 14)

Another dream in the tunnel, unsavory and intruding . . . I stood over my name carved on a tomb stone and I was unable to escape the double solitude that filled me, widening the blackness of the tunnel. As I awoke, new tears frightened my eyelids and I was convinced that I should call the moving van and have all of my belongings delivered here to the tunnel because there was no getting out, surely this was where I would live and die. Well, I was half right.  

"You know it's all right to cry in here." His words made me jump, spooking me, leaving slash marks on my ears.

"So you've told me," I mumbled, wiping at the tears, looking around. I couldn’t see him in the shadowy backgrounds of the tunnel. "Where are you? Can you scoot closer?"

A scruffy squeaking motion echoed off the tunnel walls, creeping out my insides, inflating the sensation of dread. It was still hours before sunrise and the dark resembled the burnt crust on a grilled 4th of July hamburger . . . I hate meat. And I don't like it any better that my very temperament does me in from time to time. Like it's doing right now, dragging me through mental hoola hoops of interaction with people who have no skin, well, no skin that I can see.

Yet, even now, with this present darkness leaching courage from my soul, I cannot help but face this plain truth: we are all going to die. And here I am this miniscule speck surrounded by unlimited creation within this boundless burrow, shaking my fist at the walls, pouring out my words toward infinite God, churning and sputtering, even blossoming at times and then POOF! I am gone. Swept off toward the act of dying . . . my name on a tomb stone.

 ^“I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death.” His voice filled the space between my thoughts, as if he had been inside my brain with me.

“What’d you say that for?” I asked, fresh tears pinching my face.

“The apostle Paul wrote those words when he was in prison, unsure if he would live or die. His arms and legs bound in chains and his . . .”

“I know the verse,” I shot the words into the dark, wishing I couldn’t hear the clanging of chains rebounding through the centuries as Paul’s pen moves across the page.

I sat very still. “You still there?” I asked. His silence crossed the tunnel, settling in around me, quieting the rattling of the fetters inside my head.

I heard him move around in his chair, probably putting a fingernail in his mouth or flipping one leg over the arm of the chair. It was the noise of waiting.

“Whether by life or by death.” I repeated the words, letting them infiltrate to a place inside of me that was bound and scared and hopeless, filled with fear and cancer and dread.

“Exalted in my body whether by life or by death,” I said it again, louder this time as the words came alive in the deepest parts of me. “So, for Paul, his life wasn’t the most important thing, his death wasn’t even the most important thing . . . but rather that Christ be glorified in his body. So no matter how things turned out, whether his accusers set him free or murdered him, the most important outcome for him was be that Christ be glorified. Is that what you’re saying?”

If he answered, I didn’t hear. This truth was penetrating my soul with a deafening roar. I jumped to my feet, the fear of living in this tunnel for the rest of my life still occupying my throat. As understanding poured inside, I began babbling to myself, “My life . . . this tunnel life I am now living as well as the death I am facing in here . . . it all has to be placed in the hands of God – they are equally given for His glory -- life and death!”

I began pacing in the darkness, facing my own mortality, accepting God’s hands all over my life and my death; sure that God alone would determine the steps of my life and the moments of my death. And as I bowed to the assurance that God would be glorified in the days of my life and the days of my death, I could feel the supernatural God performing major surgery within my heart -- harnessing the terror of death, removing the fear of this tunnel and holding pressure on my ripped and bleeding spirit. The surrender exploded as a silent injury upon my heart, like a death within a death, leaving my body swollen with sobs and tinted with emotional slips and heaves.

When I rose from the floor of the tunnel, I could feel the dirt on my head, the tangle of hair, and a waxy red outline of my eyes and I was thankful, grateful for peace that passes understanding.

 “You know,” I told him, “It is impossible for me to die one moment sooner or one moment later than God has determined. It is impossible for me to live one day longer or one day shorter than God has declared.”

“So, you ready to get out of here?” He asked.

“What about him?” I pointed to the huge, complicated beast lurking at the opening of the tunnel, his form threatening to block the exit.

The thing was being self-destructive and muttering to himself, “Look at me! I’m going with you! You’re not leaving me in here.”

I heard the bark of seedy, squeaking metal again, “He may follow you . . . screaming for your attention, darkening your world, moving around in creepy circles threatening to jump back down your throat. But, he no longer has the power to force your eyes to look at him, to move your limbs, to twist your stomach or to squeeze your tears. You may not be without him from here on out, but you are no longer at his beck and call. Remember, faith isn’t the absence of fear, but moving forward in the face of it while holding Christ’s hand.”

Emerging from the tunnel felt like stepping out onto an alien landscape, with no evidence of life, as if no one had ever set foot here before. The earliest rays of the bright June sun were spurring the first sounds of nature’s chatter as I moved past fear out into the open, breathing in the fragile comfort of release as the glory of God rose and fell in even swoops around me.

“You know, maybe this tunnel series is a tale about passing through, not trudging through. About health, not illness. About finding life and death, not losing or avoiding either one.” The words pulled a fresh sheet of tears from behind my eyes, as I took a few uncertain steps forward.

“Hey, is it okay to cry out here?” I asked, turning to catch his response, looking for him just inside the sentimental shades of the tunnel, but he was already gone. I wasn’t surprised.

I saw fear crouching at the outer edge of the tunnel. I laughed at him and darted down the path . . . certain I could outrun him, at least for a while.

Julie

Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 13)

This morning I awoke in the tunnel to a mountain of fog biting my ears and blurring my sight . . . nothing unusual here, just another day trudging through the tunnel. I lifted my head from the blanket of mold I used as a pillow last night and pulled out my Bible.

Shining my flashlight through the fog, I read Romans 8:37-39, "No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present or the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all of creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

It seemed to me for the first time that Paul -- or God, rather -- is imploring the reader to find a new level of understanding here, one that surpasses intelligence, a learning of this truth that is based on experience. Paul knew his readers to be knowledgeable, accustomed to thinking and being taught --- so he prepared a list of possible symbols that have human meaning in a cognitive realm: death, life, angels, demons, present, future, powers, height, depth, anything else . . . as if attempting to encompass the many shades of possible threats that we think could separate us from the love of God.

Yet, knowing he'd have to communicate, within the syntax of finite words, the idea of "nothing can separate us" in such a way that would translate as discovery for the reader, Paul claims he is convinced! It is as if he invites us to learn this truth as he learned it, as a truth that is unable to be taught, a measure of understanding that cannot be learned because it is an aspect of knowing that happens between the reader and God, not between the reader and the words.

It is much like the discovery of a child who learns that two and two are four. Yet, one day when he is playing with two blocks and two blocks and discovers that he has four blocks, he knows for the first time that two and two really are four . . . the moment is dramatic and yet unnoticed. It is significant,  yet unperceived. Nevertheless, the child's inner world has been altered while the new relationship deepens and develops, without effort, without concern. And as he dwells inside of that new meaning, the power of it becomes a truth that can never be reversed in his being.

The very essence of such an experience is something that is personally subjective, as if the reader is able to step into the words, cloth himself of their point and purpose and become what it is at that moment -- beyond a mental state of recognition or realization to a "convincing" that is forever coupled to his soul.

Strange how the fog drifts on to a new place when God's Word is spilled out and the vapors of truth permeate the tunnel. Mmm, smells like freedom in here today.

Julie

Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 12)

Snapped this picture in the pocket-sized hours of the morning . . . I found comfort in the headstrong sun -- hasty and anxious to glance inside the tunnel. I spent some biting cold moments (the tunnel is always freezing) enjoying the opening, the glow, the nearness of it all . . . the light at the end of the tunnel was the closest I've ever seen it. As I looked back to the other end of the tunnel, the distant opening seemed remote and indistinct. It was then I realized there are no more choices for me to make . . . it's too late to turn around and I"m too close to this opening to stop now.

Like the tunnel, life is a continuum . . . a sequence of experiences that can move us toward the ultimate in human potential, if we allow it to. And if you're someone who has said "okay" to God's offer of forgiveness and justification through Christ, you have entered into a relationship with a predetermined purpose: to be like Christ.

If you're a Christian, you know the continuum of God's mercy: we're saved by grace (justification) ............... we live life becoming like Christ .................. we die and are fully glorified before God (glorification).

Personally, I think there's much to be said for how God moves us through the process of 'justification' to 'glorification' -- it's the 'becoming like Christ' part that interests me the most, staying on the continuum until I reach the end.

On the surface, it appears that God's ultimate goal is to have a complete set of miniature Jesus-replicas lined up before Him. But if that's what He wanted, why didn't He just do that in the first place? Why bother with the uniqueness of each human mind, the individuality of each personality, or the exclusivity of each fingerprint? Maybe . . . God wanted to see how many different forms of Christ-likeness He could produce, how many uncommon methods of being like Christ could be found.

Maybe the biggest reality of being like Christ is accepting myself for who and what I am right now and in that acceptance of my weaknesses and strengths I am able to move in this rather peculiar direction of value and worth . . . because the ultimate paradox on this continuum is that as I accept myself as I am, then I change. And when that process is guided and helped by the Spirit (Romans 8:26) the outcome is an extraordinary, one-of-a-kind person with an imprint of Christ that is pressed so incredibly deep into the soul that it becomes difficult to see where the person ends and where the Christ-likeness begins. And eventually, the melding of these two entities gives way to one of the most distinctive and ultimate creations of all time: Christ is me!

I am enjoying experiencing myself as Christ experiences me -- wanted,  understood, forgiven, received, welcomed, loved. Watching these threads of truth unite as the sun swells into the tunnel this morning, I am content to snuggle into the warmth of my Father's care and let the process continue.

Julie

Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 11)

This morning after frantically searching the tunnel for ten minutes looking for my Silly Putty, I knew I had to stop and do some deep breathing exercises . . . after gaining some small and inadequate level of internal control, I realized where I had left it. This purposeful inhaling and exhaling stuff works!!

The sad part is I really need my Silly Putty lately in order to write . . . the really really sad part is I cannot come up with a reasonable or logical explanation for the role it plays in my writing routine. Doesn't matter, though, 'cause I found it . . .

The tunnel is not the best place for losing things. The light-less conditions, the sogginess, the overall heaviness of the block walls . . . yup, not the ideal area for conducting a distressed search. However, this didn't stop me from a wired chase through Romans 7 and 8 this morning, tracking down the thoughts of Paul.

First, I got stuck at his famous line "For I am persuaded . . . " (Rom. 8: 38 KJV) We've all read it a million times, the man is absolutely convinced, beyond anything else he could know that NOTHING can separate humans from the love of God. Yet, I pondered, isn't this the same man who had just written ""I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." (Rom. 7:15 NIV) 

Then I realized that as Paul accepted the weak part of himself that wanted to do good but would fail, and as he recognized his humanness before God as a decidedly imperfect person who by no means functioned at all times in the way in which he would like to function --- as he embraced that truth it propelled him to become convinced about the truth of God's love.

The paradox is that as he acknowledged his weaknesses he became more secure --- is it possible that, as humans, if we can present ourselves before God, accepting ourselves as we are (with members that war against the law of our minds) that we too can find a security that can form an internal, private perceptual world that will meld our hearts, minds, and souls to the very Spirit of God Himself?

I used to think that Paul's outstanding sense of security was a result of his overcoming his weaknesses, as if he had finally moved on mentally from chapter 7 to chapter 8 . . . getting past the struggles in order to finally fly the holy flag of 'persuasion' from the highest tower of his cathedral of faith. When really this conviction that nothing could, nothing can, nothing ever will separate him from the love of God was a natural result of realizing his true self -- without shame, without blame, without excuse, with every human blemish laid out across the throne room floor before the scrutinizing eyes of the Almighty who had but one response, "There is no condemnation . . . " (Rom. 8:1 NIV)

It amazes me to realize that in chapter 7 Paul is simply being aware of his feelings, his experiences, his true self -- something I need to work on. And by chapter 8 he is immersed in confidence and security regardless of these deficiencies -- something I need to work on.

I'm grateful that Paul didn't lose his Silly Putty the day he wrote the book of Romans . . . otherwise I never would have realized that acknowledging my imperfections and my shortcomings can offer the opportunity to become fully persuaded and fully secure in the love of Christ.

What a puzzle this God of ours . . .

Julie

Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 9)

Wondering today how many 'Tunnel' parts there will be.....then realized that there will be just as many as God deems necessary -- no more, no less.

I was so blown away by God this morning........trudging through the tunnel trying to get back to Illinois yesterday my body was heading north, but my mind was heading south. Ever had those moments when everything you lack is scarier than everything God is? A misplaced fear of God is the worst kind of loss. It's a loss that can quickly lead to panic when you're in the obscurity of the tunnel . . .

Heard a great, old hymn this morning called Follow Me, the Saviour Calleth.

(Composer W. C. Briegel in 1687)

Follow me, the Saviour calleth;
Come to me, I am the way!
What is lacking I will give you;
Trust in me and watch and pray!
Follow me in true submission;
I have borne all your transgression;
Learn of me, both great and small,
Meekly, humbly hear my call.

As I meekly and humbly heard the call and crawled into the arms of the Saviour, my tears ripped open my heart and fear swept over my being again as His mercy looked right at my sin and failure. But then His gaze dove further, deeper -- focusing point-blank on the need, the injury, the lack that was lying beneath it all. He saw, not just the failures, but everything that had pushed me toward the failures of yesterday . . . I realized that He could see it all and that His intent is never simply to forgive, but to forgive and then . . . to heal. It was then that my human fear shriveled, eventually dissolving in the presence of healthy God-fear.

What is lacking I will give you . . . I know God forgives our downfalls, that's what He does time and time again. But we have to know He sees the lack that caused the failure before we can believe that He is more than able to provide for all that is lacking. I had to be willing to sit there and see Him examine what is lacking. Letting Him handle it, hearing Him to name it, allowing Him to inhale the stink of it . . . what a horribly sweet following of true submission.

Thank goodness, He is not content to leave us as forgiven, He aims to mend the brokenness, refine the false thinking, and speak truth to what is lacking.

Trust in me . . . watch and pray . . .  How to trust, how to watch, how to pray, how to move on from here?  Because even forgiveness and treating our injuries isn't enough for this great God -- He always wants more.  He led me to I Corinthians 16:13 (NEV). . .

Stay alert. Stand firm in the faith. SHOW COURAGE. Be strong.

What would it look like to show courage? Say I'm going about today . . .

forgiven....YES....

healed....well, healing because now there's this massive bandage on my soul, but I am pain-free because of the God-sized ibuprofen pill I had to swallow this morning....so, YES....

trusting, watching, praying....well, maybe....what if I don't feel trust today, what if my watching gets distracted again, what if my praying words fall down instead of up? Then maybe, those would be good times to SHOW courage, by trusting anyway, by watching anyway, by praying anyway. Acting out the courage that I don't feel, taking the step of faith when I can't see a single thing clearly in this darn tunnel, speaking God's Word even when it doesn't sound right coming out of my mouth.

Somehow . . . perhaps . . . maybe . . .  I think Mr. Briegel found the inspiration for his hymn from his own moments of lack being scrutinized under the absolute gaze of the Saviour. And out of his own qualms and reverence for the splendor of this God, he could with confidence proclaim, as if he had heard it fall succinctly from the lips of God Himself, "Follow me . . . I have what you're lacking. Follow me . . . trust, watch, pray."

As I move my own ear close to the mouth of God, He whispers, "Follow me . . . even in the tunnel . . . I have what you are lacking."

Julie

Tunnel Vision while Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 8)

Tunnel vision is a medical term used to describe a condition where peripheral vision is lost and the patient can see only within a limited, circular field. Potential causes of tunnel vision are loss of blood to the brain, exposure to certain chemicals, or some disease processes. Tunnel vision can be temporary or permanent. Regardless, experiencing tunnel vision for any reason can lead to fatigue, dizziness, nausea, confusion, anxiety, lack of coordination . . . even blindness.

Tunnel vision struck today. . . . I just hope it's permanent! These verses from Romans 7:24-25 and 8:1 brought God into sharp focus, so massive He filled the lens of my life -- blocking out every possible tragedy lurking in my peripheral vision.

²⁴O unhappy and pitiable and wretched man that I am! Who will release and deliver me from [the shackles of] this body of death?  ²⁵O thank God! [He will!] through Jesus Christ (the Anointed One) our Lord! So then indeed I, of myself with the mind and heart, serve the Law of God, but with the flesh the law of sin. ¹THEREFORE, [there is] now no condemnation (no adjudging guilty of wrong) for those who are in Christ Jesus, who live [and] walk not after the dictates of the flesh, but after the dictates of the Spirit.  (Amplified version)

This massive exposure to the chemicals of God's Word cut off the blood flow to my flesh-brain causing spiritual tunnel vision. The struggle of fighting breast cancer . . . overshadowed through Jesus Christ, the Anointed One. The daily strife of tunnel darkness . . . dwarfed through Jesus Christ, the Anointed One. The difficulties of dealing with myself . . . eclipsed through Jesus Christ, the Anointed One.

Today my heart was tired, weak, and numb turning in circles before God searching for the appropriate position of surrender . . . I was convinced that every saint on the planet was sharing meaningful and eloquent moments of communion with Him, uttering prayers in perfect syntactic rhythms that where moving His heart to tears . . . while I . . . the inconsistent soul that I am . . . waddled around uncomfortably before Him, eventually tumbling to my face and spilling unconvincing words that were both halted and rambling.  It was exhausting.

Yet, His Word had the power to draw, to beckon this wilting heart -- "to release and deliver the body from death" -- offering a rest, a reprieve that was impossible to escape.  As I relaxed in the tight grip of His truth, a sweet renewal passed over my soul . . . the day by day kind that God is so famous for, the kind that empowers, strengthens, and fortifies every cell in the body, leaving behind a new capacity to operate through the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus.

Tunnel vision has got to be the best condition ever! I didn't feel any sort of nausea or anxiety though . . . with God dominating the focus of my life and filling my peripheral vision with Himself, I finally felt free from the strangle hold of sin and death, however, the sudden release from sin and death did send a rush of oxygen to the spiritual brain causing some dizziness and confusion, resulting in this blog post, so . . . let's hope it's permanent!

Julie

Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 7)

Nights in the tunnel can be especially difficult. Woke up at 3:28 a.m. with a biting, ash-colored fog spreading across the floor of the tunnel, enfolding my realities with its livid presence.  How strange . . . that this peppery smoke can appear so slight yet press so heavy upon me.

As I was falling asleep last night there was a thunderstorm pounding the roof of the tunnel, lightening shrieking overhead, wetness sweeping the margins of the tunnel openings. I clamped my eyes shut, eventually falling into a mental hibernation disturbed only by vivid dreams from my overactive brain stem . . . these disturbing dreams are not wasted, however, they create a gratefulness inside for awaking at 3:28 a.m., thankful that I am unable to dream any more.

There is no light at the end of the tunnel during the nighttime . . . duh . . . but that doesn't stop my gaze from searching the drab insides of the tunnel for that pinpoint of light and hope. Funny thing is, because of the storm last night there IS something to see in these early morning moments.

The bolstering storm has died out a bit leaving huge granite clouds thick across the sky. Even now, without a sound, without a specific source, without a distinct movement the entire western sky flickers with brilliance then dives back into charcoal silence, as if all it needs is another deep breath before finding the strength to once again vibrate with light then withdraw.

Although the light at the end of the tunnel quivers with indecision this morning-that-remains-night, it amazes me that God has the ability to create light in any way that He wants at any time that He desires . . . the diffuse light of the sunrise lifting another day into existence, the glaring light from midday that bakes the earth, the gentle light of the sunset  that arrests our human attention with color, the reflective light from the celestial orb glimmering and alert, the oscillating light from the corners of a passing thunderstorm . . . He is this light, He can do whatever He wants with it.

Julie

Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 6)

Went to a seminar last Monday -- "The Challenges of Tunnel Dwelling". Been going through my notes this week, there was so much great information that it's impossible to post all of it here . . . oh, did you know that people who live in tunnels are called 'mole people'? No joke -- Jennifer Toth's 1993 book, "Mole People: Life in the Tunnels Beneath New York City", gave them a name that has stuck all this time. Who knew?

The basis of the seminar was Romans 5:1-11  -- I won't type out the whole thing, but here's the most significant part for me:

"We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us."  (vs. 3-5)

One of the greatest challenges of tunnel dwelling is being hemmed in on every side by troubles: darkness, loneliness, fear . . . the dampness, the cold, the sprained ankles, the bad dreams, and the uncertainty of ever reaching the light . . . it can be overwhelming at times.  And, since there's no immediate chance of moving out of the tunnel just yet, the speaker challenged us mole people to take this opportunity to learn the lessons of perseverance, character, and hope.

It got me thinking: what would it look like -- in my life, considering my current damp, desolate, dusky tunnel home -- to feel safe enough to be able to relax in the grace of God and learn these lessons? As I sat at the seminar, trying to listen, my mind wandered and my pen doodled all over my journal . . . maybe it would be -- not letting any struggle be wasted.

Maybe it would look something like this -- For each negative thought, easing it back in to face God's truth. For every self-condemning idea, allowing a shift toward forgiveness and worth in Christ. For each weakness that trips me up, reaching for the hand of Christ to steady myself. For every fearful minute that my steps are halted, accepting that He is trustworthy. For every confused and disoriented moment, choosing faith. For every lonely, long night, believing God is present and I do indeed have hope.

Maybe being in the tunnel for this time is less about trying to shove truth at my inadequacies and more about allowing the struggles to become the catalysts that can nudge me toward the perseverance, the character, the hope, so that they become the spur that gently shifts my soul back to the presence of God time and time again . . . back toward truth, faith, hope, love -- so that no trial, no struggle is ever worthless but, rather, empowers me to take capable steps toward the light at the end of the tunnel and away from the dull details of life.

My prayer is that this time of tunnel dwelling would not be wasted, but that there will be a harvest of perseverance, character, and hope. When I was praying this week, the face of God moved in close and with His sweet, windy God-breath, He whispered, "You think the only plan I have for you is to get you out of this tunnel? You think the only solutions I have for you are 'stay in here' or 'go out there'? Maybe I don't want either one -- maybe I don't want you dwelling in the tunnel forever, but maybe I won't have you running off either. I am God and I can bring so much more out of this, if you'll only let me -- more than you can imagine! Don't let this season of life be a mere cause/effect episode; I want to make sure that you reap much more than the consequences of your actions and circumstances . . . be still and know that I AM GOD."

I can still feel the cool wind of the Spirit as He pours His love into my heart this dismal, tunnel night . . . "You are deeply loved, totally accepted, and fully forgiven in Christ."  ---- that's hope that does not disappoint.

Julie

Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 3)

I can't think today, so I guess I'll blog. Having trouble thinking and trudging through this stupid tunnel because it's so cold in here. It's really cold -- especially the last week or so. It's hard to think when you're shivering, every thought focuses on relief. I finally figured out that there are only two ways to stop the cold: decrease the amount of cold or increase the amount of heat.

I spent a great deal of time this last weekend trying to stop-up one end of the tunnel to keep the cold out. Funny thing about tunnels, they have two ends -- both of equal diameter (in this case, anyway), both with gaping mouths screaming to the bitter winds, "Over here, come in this way!" After a few days, I abandoned that mission and took up a new one -- decreasing the cold by decreasing myself. Maybe if I could somehow roll up into a ball, curl small enough like a rollie-pollie  bug does, then the cold would pass right over me. Needless to say, lying on the wet ground, my head on my backpack, my journal clutched in my icy hands and the flashlight warming my feet -- well . . .

"How's that working out for you?" The stranger asked.

Where did he come from again?

He had something draped over his arms. It was plush and comfy looking.

Sudden revelation! Increase the amount of heat. Why didn't I think of that before I had exhausted myself blocking exits? Why hadn't I thought of that before rolling around in the dirt like an invertebrate? I suppose error is one of the inevitable consequences of living -- boy-o-boy, if I could fully grasp that truth I'd probably be on my way out of this tunnel!

Increasing the warmth, that's what I needed to do -- and fast. Things were looking a bit desperate: my teeth were rattling, my bones were cracking, my cartilage was solidifying. I was beginning to wonder if I'd make it out of this dark place in one piece. I had to increase the warmth so that I could move forward in this sojourn. 

Darn it! I didn't want to do have to do this, but I didn't have a sweater, which is unusual for me, I take a sweater or jacket with me everywhere I go, no matter the time of year. Why didn't I pack better for this trip? So, I had to take a risk. I had to open up and ask for the blanket. I had to trust. It's something I make myself do every ten years or so. Thank goodness it's over already for this decade.

"You know, not trusting is a learned behavior. Any idea how you learned not to trust?"

"Could you just hand over the blanket without the psychological rundown on my life?" I snapped, completely oblivious to the fact that he had what I needed.

My hands were trembling as I reached toward the coverlet; I felt like a drug addict antsy to get a fix, but ashamed of wanting it. I whooshed it open and swung it around myself. It was at once soothing and balmy, but within minutes I could feel the prickle of fleece against my skin. It was completely uncomfortable, but it would have to do -- for now.

"Over time, we'll work on migrating the truth about this fleece from the outside to the inside." He started walking toward the light at the end of the tunnel.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He didn't stop or turn around, but I think I could hear him smile.

Funny, how life can get so imbalanced at times and all that was missing was the right idea: increase the warmth. Easy? Not on your life. Did I get warm? Well, the cartilage in my earlobes is still stiff, but the pages of my journal have thawed out nicely.

Julie

Some people pass through the tunnel, others . . .

Received a few 'comment' responses and a few verbal responses to the last post -- Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 2).  Thank you to everyone who's reading and responding and to everyone who's simply reading.  No matter what group you find yourself in, I have good news and bad news for you.

Which one do you want first?

Bad news? Good.

Bad news = Eventually everyone will trudge  through the tunnels of life.

Good news= Some people will simply pass through, others will write about passing through.

Oops!! Ouch! Sorry . . .  I dropped the flashlight and it went out. Where'd it go? Dang tunnel, it's so dark in here.

Julie

Trugding Through the Tunnel (Part 2)

"You know, any emotion is OK in here."

The voice startled me.

Wiping tears from my cheeks, I heaved myself upright into a standing position. Balancing gingerly on my good leg, being careful of my sore ankle, I stood in the murky blackness staring at this outsider invading my tunnel. I tried to see his eyes, study his stance, was he someone I could trust?

"Anything, huh?" I asked.

He swung the glare from the flashlight he was holding up and down the dank walls of the tunnel. Why do tunnels always have moisture spilling through the cracks? I could smell the mold.

"See there?" He pointed his light on a splay of graffiti, reading the words of those who had passed through this tunnel before me. "Get me out of here!" He read. The light moved to the left, "Will I ever escape this blackness?" The light scooted to the right, "Why am I in this empty place?"

He turned to me, "Can you hear the frantic needs? The hopelessness? The questioning and confusion? There's fear and hurt written all over these walls."

He paused. I suppose he was waiting for a response. But I was hollow.

"Here, this is for you." He handed me the flashlight and a journal. "I want you to contact me anytime you feel like you need to. OK?"

I opened the journal to a random page and read:

"So many people believe that there is no such thing as ‘true change’ in human lives.  People think that ‘they’re born this way’, that the ‘real parts of yourself cannot be changed’.  But I believe that’s false.  The big things in life can be changed just as much as the small things in life can be changed.  It’s just that most people don’t want it.  Healing requires change, active change.  And it’s possible to change so much that you become a completely different person.  And that difference can be so significant that it can be the most intimidating thing in your life at the time.  The truth is, many life lessons look huge and painful to walk through, when in fact, they have the potential to become the greatest blessing that could ever happen in our lives. Julie."

"Hey, where did you get this?" My fury yelled to the outsider. As my screams echoed off the concrete walls of the tunnel, I moved the light silently up and down the somber darkness. He was gone. I was alone again, but this time with much work to do.

I opened to a empty page in the journal and began.

Julie

 

Trudging Through the Tunnel (Part 1)

Since exiting the room-- the room with the bookends labeled "Then" and "Now" -- I've found myself in a tunnel, clumping slowly toward the pinpoint of light at the other end. Funny how my days turn from reality to metaphor the minute my hand picks up a pen or my fingers touch a keypad. It's a burden I've learned to tolerate.

Tunnel ventures are often tedious and gradual, difficult and lonely. Not sure how I keep finding myself in these strange places, but that's not my concern. My concern is to make it through, to keep the light in focus, to move onward. Things like life, disease, life, myself, and life have been slowing me down a bit, messing with my insides. April is the one year anniversary of my intimate introduction to the grim reaper. On top of that, changes have been abundant in this economy the last several months--changes that have twisted purpose from my days and striped meaning from my moments. Thus, the tunnel -- my pathway toward healing. 

I don't pretend to be ignorant of the way before me. I know tunnels are often dim with roadways that are tough to maneuver and difficult to traverse -- especially when you can't see the ground beneath your feet. So, when I threw on my backpack today and stepped into the tunnel, I was only a bit shocked that I stepped into a pot hole, but I was completely surprised that my ankle twisted roughly in the process. That didn't take long. Sulking next to the damp and smelly concrete wall of the tunnel rubbing my throbbing ankle got me thinking about pain.

Why is pain always present with a wound? Isn't pain the enemy? I watched the blue swell to black on my ankle, I felt the pulsing throb and wondered . . . perhaps pain is the guardian, the voice of reason letting me know that something is wrong, something needs attention, something needs to be fixed. Maybe pain is a language all its own. Maybe pain is not the enemy and is not to be feared. Maybe pain is a part of every tunnel trip. Maybe healing requires that I pay attention to my wounds, listening to their unique language, and responding with an ace wrap and an NSAID.

I hope I have those in my first-aid kit. Did I pack the first-aid kit?

Julie