A Room of Memory
I’ve been in a Room. A Room of Waiting. It was a barren room with no window. Four bare walls and one small wooden chair that made my hips hurt from the sitting. Actually, it was more like a Room of Abandonment. Without realizing it, for years (and with no fault of another), I have been abandoning myself. Not showing up for myself. Not honoring my one precious life. Not letting my yes be yes, and my no be no. The time for abandonment has come to an end. The time of waiting is over.
Today is New Year’s Eve and I took myself to one of my favorite lakes. The fog of the past year hung low with invitation and the clouds spit drops of purpose. The invitation to pause and feel, to dare to lift my head and look up. The lake, drained of its waters, revealed all that had been hidden beneath the surface. The sludge and rotten wood of forgotten places reminded me of the so-called ugly shadows in our hearts that we don’t want anyone to see. To many it may look like a barren wasteland. But in the middle of the lake ran a river of water, flowing and alive.
It was the river that called to me and the realization that deep in the mire and muck, there too was life. Practically speaking, ecosystems for without whom the lake and its other inhabitants would not survive. Could there be possibly life in the deep mire and muck of our own shadows? Shame says we must work hard to keep those secret, ugly places of our soul hidden. We hammer a large sign in the sinking mud that says, DANGER. BEWARE. GO BACK, as we let the flood gates of life open and the waters of (insert whatever keeps you distracted) rush in and drown us, covering up all the “rotten” places, all the while trying to function through the fear. Until one day, something (else) happens and it drains us of (almost) every drop of what we thought was life sustaining water. We find ourselves standing in the thick stinkin’ muck of our barren wasteland once more.
But dear one, if you can hear my one small voice, look around. There in the middle of your barrenness the River of Life still flows. And it calls to you. I call to you. I’ve been standing in my own barren land for so long, hoping on the sidelines with no action. So, I’ve pulled on my wellies and am sloshing my way through all the ick toward the River of My Life, willing to be drown in those waters! But first I had to get up off that damn wooden chair in The Room of (my own) Abandonment and open the door. It was only ever locked from the inside. I always held the power to open the door.
I walked out of that room on shaking knees and with a flood of tears and closed the door. The door that I closed was not with violence or anger or one ounce of remorse. It was a gentle clicking of the latch. It was a moment of transformation. I am, admittedly, standing with my forehead on the warm wood, remembering. I now realize how deeply I learned how to love and be loved; how far I’ve come. The room that was once full of waiting, is now full of the moments and memories that have brought me to this present moment. The people who walked with me, prayed for me, held me, nurtured me and loved me so deeply and so well. To them, I breathe thanks!
On the coat tails of 2022, I offer you an invitation. Get up. Stop sitting on the hard wooden chair of your own Room of Waiting or Abandonment. Walk to the door. Open it and take a deep breath of fresh air. It isn’t going to be easy. But it will be worth it! You are worth it! The River of Love that is your life awaits! And if you need to look back at that door for a moment (or even two), that’s okay. May you see the words, The Room of Memory etched in stone and may your heart fill with gratitude for how far you’ve come. I celebrate you, and me, and with a twinkle of hope step into this new year with authenticity and peace.
