In The Middle
Trista and I spent the afternoon together today. It was not a particularly good day. We discussed our need to know that this “thing” might end up helping someone. Otherwise what is the purpose? If we have to go through this kind of pain, why can’t we at least see some good? We ask these questions with the knowledge and unspoken agreement that we may never have the answers.
And yet, I sense something. I see it, or think I see it, as if through extremely heavy fog. Frightening, depressing fog like that I remember our family encountered late at night on the Ohio River while traveling due to the expected death of my paternal grandmother. Or do I just want to see this “something” so badly? The human heart needs hope. I am beginning to believe that sometimes, at life’s worst moments, our need for it is equal to our need to breathe. Without either we die. The only difference is whether it is actual physical death.
Last night I said that, at any given time, I am reading both fiction and non-fiction. I dog-ear pages and later review those pages to make notes. (Yes, I DO fix the pages before returning said books to the library.) Today, I ate lunch, fiction book in hand. There was a reference to being in the middle of where we are needed. I immediately dog-eared the page.
I share that reference with Trista. I explain that I am wondering if we are in the middle of where we are needed. I rush on to remind her that maybe I am just desperate in my search. Emotionally we are at the coldest, driest, windiest place on earth. We are in Antarctica. And we are there during the long period of constant darkness. And yet, we watch the sky for our rescue plane! Illogical, we know. But as I’ve said before, some emotions and the rational mind cannot co-exist. Logic and the thought process can so easily be discarded if you hurt enough. So we have to maintain the hope that the plane will arrive. Or we will give up.
But suppose we WANT all this to do SOMETHING FOR SOMEBODY because we are in the middle of where we are needed? Wouldn’t that question, just the possibility that there is a need and it will be addressed, give us hope? We want some “what” and “why” answers. But maybe focusing on the “where” question is the source of our hope and comfort. Maybe that focal point will lead us out of the worst of the heavy fog. It might all of a sudden be clear, in the same way we can drive out of areas of fog, at least temporarily. Or maybe it even represents our rescue plane. I hope so.
