Hard Reset

I don’t know what to say.

I just know that I’ve got to start again somewhere.

There’s been a storm. I had a feeling it was coming. Maybe I felt it in the air. I was well prepared for it, but it hit with a fury that I didn’t expect, and from a direction that I had hoped to never have to face again.

I fought it; I was strong; But in the end it hurt too much.

All I could do was batten down the hatches and retreat into myself, to hold on to the only thing that has never failed me: My God.

He’s been all that’s held me together through this. At times I felt like I was going to explode, shatter into a million tiny fragments… but when there was nothing left in myself… somehow He kept me together.

It’s been one of the darkest times of my life. I’ve felt defeated; I’ve despaired.

And I mean despair. We use that word too easily these days – I’m talking about that horrible suffocating weight that you can’t help but be smothered by. The kind that makes you just want to go to sleep because then you don’t have to face reality.

Life ached like an aching tooth.

But through the darkness there’s always been hope. I don’t quite know how to explain this. I like things to be logical, I like to know the “why”. It’s like someone holding onto your arm when you should be drowning. The waves are crashing all around you, you can’t breathe, you can’t swim, you’re exhausted… you can feel the deep pulling at you… but all the while there’s something holding you up – and the strain hurts.

Your arm aches because of it, but the ache tells you you’re alive, and is, somehow, part of the promise of salvation.

Now it feels like the storm is subsiding. There is a queer twilight half-light around. The waves are smaller, and the wind is gusting fitfully, but it’s difficult to tell whether this is the end of the storm, or the eye of it.

I don’t know where the storm has blown my little boat, nor where we go from here.

There’s a prayer called “the sailor’s prayer”:

“Dear Lord, your ocean is so big

And my boat is so small

Help me, or I am lost

Amen”

 It’s been my prayer.

The word I have for now is “build”. Each moment is life, and I can choose to idle, and remain in this pain, or to “build” with it. To repair that which has become battered, to rebuild that which has washed off the foundation that remains.

To build into my life, to build into the life of my family. To make a positive difference, because I’ve got nothing left to lose.

There’s nothing else I can do.

Music has spoken deeply to me in this time:

(The Valley Song, Jars of Clay [Furthermore])

You have led me to the sadness

I have carried this pain

On a back bruised, nearly broken

I’m crying out to you

I will sing of your mercy

That leads me through valleys

To rivers of Joy

When death like a gypsy comes to steal what I love

I will look to the heavens

I will still seek your face

But I fear that you aren’t listening

Because there are no words

Just the stillness and the hunger

Of a fate that assures

I will sing of your mercy

That leads me through valleys

To rivers of Joy

Hallelujah

While we wait for a rescue

With our eyes tightly shut

Face to the ground

Using out hands

To cover the fatal cut

Though the pain is an ocean

Tossing us around, around, around

You have calmed greater waters

And higher mountains have come down…

I will sing of your mercy

That leads me through valleys

To rivers of Joy

Yeah…

(Midnight in Philadelphia, Lifehouse)

I know what its like to hide

Sit in your room and break down there and cry

And all I could say was your name

I’ve had my share of pain

But I know it’s made me who I am today

So I look back with no regrets

I look back with no regrets

I know that you are watching me somewhere over the moon

Shouting down that you love me

Wondering why I can’t hear you

If only for a moment

If only in my mind

I could go back to the beginning

And the place I felt like a child…

I can tell you mean well by your eyes

But a Father’s intentions can be turned to lies

Nobody’s perfect I guess

People let you down

I followed the leader that fell to the ground

But you never left me alone

You never left me alone

I know that you are watching me somewhere over the moon

Shouting down that you love me

Wondering why I can’t hear you

If only for a moment

If only in my mind

I could go back to the beginning

And the place I felt like a child…

(Storm, Lifehouse)

How long have I been in this storm?

So overwhelmed by the ocean’s shapeless form…

Water’s getting harder to tread

With these waves crashing over my head

If I could just see you,

Everything would be alright

If I could see you

This darkness would turn to light

And I will walk on water

And you will catch me

If I fall

And I will get lost into your eyes

And everything will be alright

And everything will be alright

I know you didn’t bring me out here to drown

So why am I ten feet under and upside down?

Barely surviving has become my purpose

Because I’m so used to living underneath the surface

If I could just see you,

Everything would be alright

If I could see you

This darkness would turn to light

And I will walk on water

And you will catch me

If I fall

And I will get lost into your eyes

And everything will be alright

And everything will be alright

My friends have been amazing during this time. Thank you so much. The support that you’ve given had has sustained me, when on my own… I don’t know what would have happened.

It’s funny how looking back gives you strength. I was prepared for this. I was given the music, and the words, and the ideas, and the experiences, and the friends and support structures. My relationship with God was strong and close.

I don’t think I’d ever been in a better position to cope with what happened.

And after all that has come, I’m still floating. God is good – and redemption is a wonder. Even things like this can be used to bring about good… and I pray that this will happen. In my life, and in my family.