Have you ever gone through the process of what it takes for a wound to really heal? To have the restraint and trust enough to not to pick at the scab and expose what happened all over again?
We all have scars. We all tend to want to remember them. But what happens when someone gives you a different side? What happens when after so long, new information is introduced? An eye witness comes forward and hits you with the truth that things were not as you thought they were all along. Everything you once were so sure of must meld to the new.
I guess that's how I feel about death. We think we know, until we get older and something we didn't know comes about and switches it all up. What we believe, how we feel, and why we resolve to walk out our lives a certain way as a result.
Things end. That's life. But that doesn't mean it's all over. I heard a story about how death is actually the beginning. I mean, it's not just a story, it's science really.
Bury a seed in the ground. Suffocate it. Pour water on the grave. And let the hot ass sun beat down on it. Next thing you know something is alive inside and growing. We call that something life.
Doesn't make sense, does it? I know. That's life. And as much as it can suck and hurt and punch the stuffing out of us, we love it. It's the painful things we experience that point us to the great joys. The end of one thing that allows us to have the start of the other.
And it's the struggle of giving up, of letting go...that yields to the deepest, richest, most amazing unknowns. The thing is, we must lose ourselves- our comforts and what we know- to find it.
We would do well to remember, in the hard times and the good times (because hard times are gonna come- that's a strange promise), a wise and enduring truth:
Conflict is what leads to intimacy. And that's how we overcome.
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