It occurs to me lately that is seems when in a desperate situation, it is easier to see the hoards of folks gathered to watch you fail than the fans there to watch you succeed. I wonder if Carl Edwards thinks this way. Doubtful, since he’s totally taking the Nationwide cup this week, yo.

Me, I feel like (a much prettier version of) Mel Gibson in Braveheart getting my guts pulled out while everyone watches and cheers or weeps. Some think I deserve every ounce of agony and are smiling with their wicked black teeth, spitting their ale as a laugh involuntary escapes their mouth when an entrail’s directionality induces surprise. Others are simply watching in horror, knowing there is no way they can possibly help me, understanding my plight yet helpless to save me. One stands at my face, caressing it, promising to be there to the bitter end. Another stands at my side holding my hand, weeping, asking why I would allow this to happen. I am frozen in pain and hopelessness.

It is here when an unassuming, average man comes up, gathers my innerds and gently places them back in position, bandaging the wounds. He and his wife smile at the guards who seem powerless to stop them as they untie my shackles and carry me off.

“Tell me what you wanted to accomplish…” she asks
“I…I thought freedom at any cost was to be valued. That I would be worthy…” I reply
“…and now?” she asks
“…I…I…I don’t know. I’m so tired. I just want to breathe again.” and I drift off to sleep as she nods and holds my hand.

That night in a vision, we are at the river. My wounds are dangerous and severe. I haven’t much strength. She turns around and points to the forest. With a glance I realize it is my life as it stands. A tangled mess of pain and deception, anger and bitterness. The wicked plants are wrapped around the lovely ones and you cannot tell them apart. Just out of earshot, those awaiting my death stand in gossip, daring one another to do me in.

“You will not survive the night here.” she warns. I feel the wounds beginning to weep and become infected.
“But I can’t give up. I can’t listen to them, I need to fight. I need to show them they are wrong! My heart isn’t black! I’m not the evil in this place!” I shout. She soothes me and points to the river.
“Life is waiting for you there. Just on the other side. It’s not a life of wealth and ease. It’s a life of truth and love and all things good. I think that’s where you were trying to go when you began, but somehow you lost your way.” I nod with tears streaming down my face.
“You must dive into the river and swim to the other side.” she says.
“But..I can’t! Look at my wounds! Look at how weak my body is! Look what they’ve done to me!! I can’t do it!” I cry, crumpling to my knees.
She picks me up and tells me the secret. I know instantly it is also the secret to life itself she has entrusted me with.
“In order to make it across the river, you must take the focus off your wounds and weaknesses and look only for the one way across the river. Any distraction will lead you out into the water and you will be lost. You must stop looking at your own pain and move ahead in spite of it, trusting that on the other side of that river lies healing for those wounds.”

It wasn’t enough to stand up for the idea I knew was right. I was defeated and facing a horrific end. The gentle love wanted to love me only but seemed to overlook the damage going on. The love by my side was debilitated by the violence and pain that he, himself began to feel as he watched me torn apart. I had to be carried away from both of them and the mixed crowd to be alone with what my life has become. I had to see the choices ahead of me. Death, or life. Some like to be dramatic when they make such claims, however I am not being poetic. Whatever I have lost over the last few years created an emptiness that was consuming me and if I allowed it to continue would take over, plunging me into darkness.

So I took the hands of the two kind servants and, trusting the one who sent them, jumped.

It’s a strange new world, and the healing requires action by me. It requires new thinking and new vision. And once again taking hold of concepts I had set aside long ago.

I am on what I feel is the right path. But the damage done will never be undone. Or forgotten. And I can never forget that I am not yet safe.

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