If you choose to listen to this post, just know that one previous post is linked in the text.
You can be skating along nicely, smiling at the others at the rink, crossing your right leg over your left in a feat of bravery, vibing to the beat of the music. All can seem right with the world. You can feel like this is living.
Then, suddenly, you face the first obstacle. A small child tumbles right in front of you. You awkwardly side step and regain your balance. You check to make sure the child is getting back up, and then you resume your previous vibe.
Sure, your smile momentarily left your face, but now you’re back in business– right back with the beat of the music, regaining your groove, getting lost in the moment. But then, when you least expect it, you spot someone from your past as you zoom by the watching crowd. They are glaring at you, holding up photographic evidence of that thing you did back in 2010 or 1983 or 2024 or 1997– that major blunder, that egregious oversight, that huge mistake — or series of mistakes — you made.
The smile drops from your face. You almost run into the wall. You turn to look back, to go over to them, wanting to reconnect, to reconcile, but they are gone. You can no longer hear the music — you can no longer register the people around you — you are transported back in time to a newsreel of all the ways you blew it back then.
What was wrong with you? What was happening? Where were you in your head?
You stumble off the rink and find a bench. You remove your skates and, forgetting to put on shoes or grab a jacket or say goodbye to the people you came with, you wordlessly walk out into the wilderness.
Of course, this is how it happens, isn’t it? We’re living our lives, managing our responsibilities (or even skating), when something — an image, a phone call, a text, a song — triggers us and we feel ourselves disengaging from those around us. If we have the wherewithal, we may try to bat away the images so that we can continue to function, so that we can continue to see the people around us, so we can continue to feel the ground beneath our feet.
Unfortunately, as we’re doing all that swatting, we often find ourselves off balance. We catch ourselves in the mirror, a look of distress crumpling our face, and we realize the heap of guilt and shame from the past that has mysteriously and overwhelmingly appeared on our backs.
One interchange — one glimpse, one image — has shifted reality and we’re no longer skating along.
In the past, such an instance might have sent us spiraling down into the abyss of regret — why didn’t I see? why didn’t I notice? why didn’t I ask? why didn’t I listen? what else was going on? why didn’t I act differently? do more? say more? — we might have spend hours or, frankly, days or weeks, unable to break the free fall, unable to find the ground, unable to take even a baby step forward, let alone try on a pair of skates.
This is not our first rodeo, however. We’ve been here before. We know what to do
We sit down. We recognize what’s going on, and for a while we take off the backpack of grief and peek inside and acknowledge, “yup, that was some messed up shit that happened.” We don’t haul it all out for close examination, not right now, but we acknowledge it — it’s true; it happened; it hurts; real bad.
We know the others involved are still angry/hurting/processing/grieving and sometimes, so are we.
We know our role — our culpability.
That hasn’t changed.
But…because we’ve been here before and know what it is, we choose not to fall into the abyss of grief this time. We choose to look in, to put our hand on the ache, to hope for restoration, and then, to step away.
What happened is true and awful and unchangeable. No amount of spiraling or wallowing or self-flagellation will change that. And, today is in front of us, full of folks who care, who count on us, who see us, who love us. Amazingly, even folks who know the terrible awful then continue to join us in the now. And now is what we have. Lots of opportunity to see, to notice, to ask, and to listen.
And, we resolve to do our best at that and to have grace for when, even now, we blow it. Because certainly, we will blow it again. It is the way of all flesh.
We won’t be skating any more today. No. But we won’t be free-falling either. We’re just gonna stand up, breathe, and take the next step forward.
And one day soon, we’ll be skating again.
the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18
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