Snooze, snooze, snooze.
One week ago, four days ago, thirteen hours ago.
As the dampened street reflects an early Saturday morning shower, my email inbox sprinkles out reminders set from the past week. A musical playlist, a “must read again,” and “your story doesn’t end here” (thank you, God!) fill the subject lines of emails, including a call and prayer for restoration. I imagine my neurotransmitters firing on their journeys throughout my brain, reigniting the assorted thoughts and memories of the past seven days.
This is really about a turning point for me, however.
In Tuesday’s Zoom call, I had related to an entrepreneur how I had left a successful career in order to discover my passion in photographing the phenomena of trees during the dawn—or at least that is how he summed up for me how I could articulate myself in a niche if I wanted to frame a small artistic business online. (Of course, waking up to experience the golden hour will be character building should I commit to this task).
A new way forward was presenting itself to me as I considered: how to educate myself on camera equipment, how to manage delays in traveling to other areas, and how not to begin to think about the word “competing” as it relates to photographers hired by National Geographic. Following other photographers and being followed by others on social media were ample goals at this point.
Pondering my former definition of success, however, I recognized that I had not previously considered that I had reached some pinnacle of it. I had left this unspoken and instead, had feigned excitement in an office where I would more often muse existentially: I would watch window-washers shimmy downwards on unanchored heights and recognize the paradox of only inches-thick pieces of glass separating our lives from feeling safer inside; I would consider the harbor out the northern side of our building and its most thoughtfully named ship, “WISDOM.” But on many other days, I would just wonder how much longer I could profess my less-than-eager attitude toward my job under these artificial lights.
I had said to myself that my job was not a real achievement, because most of my important relationships were in disarray and work needed to fill the empty parts. I also did not understand how to lessen the distance that lay between myself and others—like the distance between the window washer’s stage and the soles of my shoes on a twentieth-something floor.
I could no longer ignore my past trauma. It could not be swept away by a magical two-sentence prayer for forgiveness, as the perpetrators in my life had advised.
This pivotal time in my life has hampered me in ways where, as the late Larry Crabb suggests in his book, Shattered Dreams:
“Nights can be darker than you feared. Your soul can feel so alone, so filled with agony, so untouched by love, that the most honest thing you can do is cry. The only alternative is rage, a powerful, destructive rage that in a moment of expression can give you the comforting sense that someone is finally administering justice. That’s what fuels our spirit of revenge.”
I wanted revenge against the people who had made me suffer. But in the dark years that followed, my trauma did not integrate; the circumstances remained wordless and fragmented.
Crabb continues with this question: “What would it look like for you to bring your pain into God’s presence and to wait for Him to meet you, trusting that Jesus’ work on the cross has opened the way for Him to meet you just as you are?”
This feels like welcome relief to me in a journey that seems to have gone on for far too long. I can now acknowledge the new place in my heart that has become freer to live into the qualities of who Jesus says I am.
And this has become my turning point.
Marcia is a single ambitious and courageous dreamer woman. She lives on the southern Pacific coastline of British Columbia, Canada where flowers, oceans, and wilderness encourage her photography. She has recently released her website flowersandwilderness.com to showcase her photos along with her specially crafted notebooks. In the meantime, she reflects on how God may use all of her curiosities and love for nature and writing but, for now, has commenced the “Christian community book and/or poetry virtual club” to maintain and inspire more meaningful conversations. She recently completed her BA in Psychology at Trinity Western University.
Thank you for your thoughtful discussion of these matters, I think perhaps you might come to find that the event you think of as a “turning point” is simply one of many, and I hope you are open-hearted to all turning points that are to come…, just remember that your time is in His hands. Blessings on you always –
“A new way forward…” sounds like an “aha” moment–and hopefully you will continue to have them as every day presents something new.