I have a new friend. His name is resilience. More than a Friday night burger and milkshake buddy, our friendship is deepening. A few months ago it felt like we just met, but now - I kind of like this guy. In my last blog post I wrote that resilience doesn't get much respect. Merely enduring pain and loss but not, in our popular Christian vocabulary - overcoming, seemed a bit of a hollow victory.
Absorbing all the losses of 2020 (clearly my hardest year ever) has been so tough. It started with a death in my family, some health issues, then the isolation and fear of an unknown pandemic sank in. Add in our national political corruption and disillusionment, social strife enabled by toxic technology, and far-reaching environmental fears.
And here in our state, devastating wildfires torched many wonderful Oregon places I’ve cherished all my life. It all knocked my legs out from under me. I felt crippled. I felt I should be better than this, but I wasn't. I just couldn't get back emotionally.
Then my good friend brought me two gifts - courage and time.
I realized I was being disabled by fear of change and frightening future unknowns. Fear robs us of our courage. And it shortens time for us. The immediacy of loss and panic can obscure the big picture of our future. And that results in a short-sighted, negative life narrative. It's our story, but through our own narrow lens.
I discovered I had to give up my romantic notions of the past and expectations of the present and the way things should be, and look to my real future. I am not long for this world. None of us are, but we seem to suspend coming to terms with death for most of our lives, while we are busy building our American Dream.
And the push towards a secure retirement. And for me, time for adventure.
I've always been a goer, an adventurer, and the natural world's beauty is my happy place. Gotta see what's around the bend, and up over that ridge. I've answered the call of the open road, sought misty waterfalls at the end of the trail, and melted into an evening kayak float towards that golden, fading sun, at the end of a perfect day.
And photographing it all is the capper for me. It aligns me with our world, calms me, inspires me, and brings me intense joy. When work and life gets too hard, I go there, always churning out new plans for the next big trip.
Yes, my happy place is both emotional and literal.
But this has also blurred the lines of my own reality a bit - because let's face it, life can be hard and running for the hills is certainly an escape. Difficult people and unfulfilled expectations along with the tedium of daily repetitive tasks can drag us all down. If my day to day is full of pain and shame, I go there. Somewhere. Anywhere. I escape.
And now all this present tumult seemed to be threatening my earthly dream - my escape hatch. A healthy diversion can be a good thing, but so can standing tall and trimming our sails against the wind. We can adjust, and chart a different course.
Our God will always, ALWAYS use bad for good if we let Him. We just have to let Him. In facing my future and my fears, I am slowly learning to stand. And to walk. I am learning what to focus on, and what not to. As time stretches out, the learning curve is flattening. People aren't so scary, because they are just like me at heart. I accept that, and them. My wonderful wife is my best friend, just like it should be. My friends have surrounded me as much as they are able to, and I am returning the favor.
And my amazing God, my Creator and Savior is busy in the background, restoring me, and preparing all the spectacular mountains, deserts, lush green valleys and rivers in preparation for our real future. Unspeakably bigger, bolder and more beautiful, complete with the sunlight of his intense love and presence.
So all this will work out well, don't you think? We just need to trust, and walk with resilience.
About the Author
Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.
He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.