This Blur Called Life
By Dani Higginbotham
I stood still as I watched the blur of busy people swarming around me. Occasionally they would glance at me as they hurried past and I would transfix on their eyes, looking into the pool of pain that they had forgotten was there. In the rush of life they had managed to avoid stopping to look at their own reflection.
I stood on the sidelines poised to enter the race again. Like an olympian I was waiting for my baton so I could jump back in. I didn’t want to be here; here, where I could hear myself think; here, where I could see the despair in my soul; here, where the questions and longings remained unanswered.
He had pulled me out of the rat race and I was frustrated. I didn’t want to see humanity from this angle. I didn’t want to see myself. “Just let me go”, I cried, “I can’t bare it, it’s too much!” He lovingly held me back, His hand rested firmly on my chest preventing me from going anywhere. Exhausted from the fight, I crumpled in a heap on the floor. Tired of running, tired of seeing, feeling, hearing.
I lay down, my hands shaking, my face distorting as I sobbed uncontrollably. For the first time in a long time I allowed myself to feel the pain. I surrendered to the wave of grief as images played out in my mind like an old fashioned movie. The reel played scenes of my life as I laid them before Him, letting go of the heavy load I’d carried for so long. Entering present day, the movie began to show scenes of wars, terrors, injustices… the pains and sufferings of humanity. I began to grieve through deep groans for the world that surrounded me.
Overwhelmed and exhausted I rolled over becoming suddenly aware of the soft grass that surrounded me and the smell of morning dew. I looked up to the sky and breathed a breath that filled my lungs with air, fresh and good. As I lay there my senses came to life. I began to see, feel and hear again, but this time it was beautiful.
Slowly I lifted myself off the earth and looked around. I could see them from a distance like a wheel spinning so fast that it was hard to separate them from each other. The lines had become so faded that nothing was clear. I walked closer hoping that I could distinguish them from each other and from their surroundings.
This time when I reached the sidelines I knew my heart was different. I didn’t want to jump back in, I wanted to retain this new vision, to see clearly what my eyes had been opened to. I didn’t want to lose the clarity and enter the minefield again.
I felt something press down on my heart. It wasn’t overwhelming or burdensome, it was more like a prompting, a stirring in my spirit. I knew what I had to do.
Carefully I stepped forward, looking ahead with clear vision. Fixing my gaze I aligned my spirit and lifted my hand. Reaching out I waited to catch their eye. Some were going too fast to even notice me but there were a few who had started to limp under the pressure and many who were becoming tired from sheer exhaustion. It was their choice, I couldn’t force them to take my hand but I knew that if He prompted them, then they would come. So I waited patiently, expectantly, longingly…
Knowing that He will complete what He has begun.