(I’m joining the Lisa-Jo and her Five Minute Fridays. Rules are: for only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not. Won’t you join us?)
Today is a reminder.
I look at the date on the calendar and remember that in exactly one month, it will have been two years since my life drastically changed.
I look back over the past two years and see that I am so much better than I was. I am happier. I know myself. I do not gain my value from a friendship with another person, but solely in my relationship with God. I look back on the rough times that I’ve walked through and see that I’ve reached the light at the end. I finally feel as though the worst is behind me. I can look at photographs again. I can release pent up anger and be at peace with my decisions.
I can look back to before those two years and recall happy memories, memories that will always be especially valuable to me, memories that have shaped my outlook on life and on friendship.
And then I look in the mirror, and I realize that decisions, big or small, are never made alone.
The choice to walk away, that’s a choice made by both parties – the one who does the walking, and the one who lets the other go. And whether the choice is good or bad, it’s a choice made together.
Sometimes, I look back on the choice and think it was the biggest mistake we ever made.
Sometimes, it looks like the best decision.
and sometimes, sometimes it’s both.
After all, it’s the choices that leave us broken on the floor, gasping for air, grasping for hope and community that have the greatest potential to turn into great moments of personal growth.
It’s those choices that we can look back on, after fighting through the aftermath and darkness that follows, after seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and realize that despite the darkness, despite the difficulty, the end result was what needed to happen.
It needed to happen for me. It needed to happen for the other person.
And yet, while I don’t believe it happened in the best way possible, the easiest way, or the most comforting way, it remains that the choice was still very necessary.
And now when I look back, I see that. And I’m so thankful that it happened when it did, because dear friends, it could have been so much worse.
Now, instead of looking behind, I can finally look forward.
I can look to the Light and see the hope that lays before me.
It’s a hope that I eagerly run to, arms open and heart full, embracing the adventure that awaits.
And finally, I wonder, what do you see when you look?