Finding Peace

This week, I hit the wall.

It wasn’t literal, of course. But it was a wall nonetheless, surrounding me, halting me on every side. Every turn seemed to come to the same end. It was driving me insane.

The people who know me well (my family and close friends) know that there are two things I do when I’m stressed, confused, angry, hurt, or just generally feeling emotional.

First, I write. I write down everything I’m feeling, let it all out, spill all my thoughts onto paper so I can unscramble the mess of emotions in my head.

And then I run.

I run to escape. I run to forget. I run until I’m all alone, until I forget all my problems, until sheer exhaustion takes over and the world is reduced to its simplicity.

This week was one of those times.

It had been building up since the beginning of semester, and this breakdown was bound to come sooner or later. This week happened to be it. Tuesday and Wednesday added a few more stresses to my life, and although they weren’t major, it was… well, to use an old cliché, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Thursday it was all downhill, and by Friday I crashed. I was utterly exhausted – emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually. It was problems I couldn’t fix, incidents I couldn’t resolve, and I couldn’t seem to take on any more. I spent that night tossing and turning, desperate for sleep after weeks of late nights, but getting none. I was getting desperate.

And so I ran.

I ran until the world in front of me blurred. I ran until my lungs were burning, and I’d left my problems far behind. I ran…

…until, in the haze and gloom in front of me, and my natural clumsiness, I tripped over a tree root sticking up from the path and sprawled onto the ground with a thud.

“So this is how it is?” I groaned. 

Life doesn’t look so great from down here, I thought, drawing in ragged breaths. At least it wasn’t as dangerous as the last time I tripped over – over a snake. I rolled over, too exhausted to get up, and lay there on the path, looking up through the canopy of trees up to the bright azure sky. And then I realised something.

It was only once I was completely broken that I could be made whole.

Going through life merely wounded meant that I didn’t need to admit that I couldn’t do it on my own. I could stumble through each day, helping to fix other people’s problems, trying to be a support for everyone else and pretending than my own world wasn’t crashing down. But it wasn’t until I couldn’t go any further that my stubborn nature would allow me to admit that I couldn’t do it on my own.

In life, we tend to have such an “I’m alright” attitude. We think we’ll be alright, and we keep plodding on, not stopping to think about how desperate we are for someone greater than us to be in control.

As much as I hate to admit it, there's only so far I can run from my problems. And no matter how far I try to run from them, there's Someone who will always be there, ready to lend a hand.

It was there, lying in the dirt and staring up into the clouds, that I realised that God would have taken control over everything ages ago… if only I had asked him.

Still drawing in shaky breaths, I pushed myself up and leant against a tree, contemplating. Life had convinced me that everything was going wrong, when in actual fact there are so many things I have to be thankful for.

I have an amazing family. They love me unconditionally, know me inside out, and even though they live in a completely different state, they are only a phone call away.

I have absolutely fantastic friends, here at College, in New Zealand, back in Michigan, and around the world; who care about me and are so encouraging. I have friends that I can talk to when I’m feeling lonely, who call when I’m feeling sad, and talk to me on Skype until 4 am to help me stay awake to finish an assignment. 

I have an amazing life, really. I’ve been blessed. I wake up every morning, healthy and alive, and go to bed every night knowing that I’ve learnt something new. I live in a free country, and have rights that many thousands of people elsewhere don’t have. 

I have a God who loves me enough to die for me. Nothing could be greater than that.

It’s all a matter of trust, I suppose. Trusting that if I give up my burden, He’ll take care of it. It isn’t easy. But I can’t survive otherwise.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a lone raindrop landed on my check. I smiled. Yet another gift.

I walked the rest of the way home, and arrived back exhausted, soaked, but happy. I had left broken and utterly shattered, and arrived back whole.

I was at peace.

I left my burdens out on the path today. I won’t be needing them anymore.