Tuesday, August 21

I Still Have One Sign, Part 1

I'm guessing I'm not the only one who puts inspirational signs, posters, decor, whatnot up in their homes. Mine just happen to be quick marker notes written sideways on lined notebook paper and taped to the walls. Classy.

But I tore them down.

I am a person who loves life and has big dreams and hopes, but I'm easily discouraged. So, my head knowing better than my heart sometimes does, I put up four signs on said notebook paper. Three cascaded to form one long message: There is still hope, For this room, Make it what you dream. And one I put on the opposite wall: Don't be afraid to dream.

I'm not sure of the order of things anymore, but I know that I ripped down the "Don't be afraid to dream" sign after I found out we weren't going to make it to Arcata to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and niece while they were living there. I felt betrayed by God and couldn't hold on to a reason to maintain big dreams. This would be when I wrote the post on mourning.

I think "For this room" came down after I hit a figurative wall regarding the state of my literal wall. Budget just wouldn't allow for some of the high hopes I'd built in my mind. Cleaning out, finishing an old project, painting the entirety of the walls, added trim, finishing the door. That might be when "There is still hope" came down, too, but I don't remember. Seems like it stayed up a little longer, but I don't remember then what would have wounded my heart enough to crumple it up, angry tears clinging to my face, and toss it.

You know those moments in movies when the hero is so disgusted or discouraged that he throws out some sweet memento of his family, or the gift from his love? Up until now I'd always had the reason in my mind to think the hero would regret that decision, how could he do that, doesn't he know he'll want it back when things get better?

Now, I understand. We truly don't always hope that things will get better. We might believe that life will continue, but that doesn't mean we think it'll ever get better. And so the memento, the encouraging word, the piece of hope represented in an object finds a direct one-way ticket to the dumpster. It's worse than the Monopoly card "Go Directly to Jail."

It's a horrible place to be. And it's very real.

Can you relate?

My thoughts will continue in a couple days...


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