Every time I've had a bad break up, my parents have always reminded me to avoid looking back too much. Sometimes you can stare so hard at the closed door, you don't notice the one that opens next to it. My dad has told me to not look at it as a loss but as a positive change, as growth on my part.
Despite the many times I've heard this, I've only recently begun to take it to heart. It's so easy to view change as loss or as a trial. But in reality, change is often exactly what we need. Sometimes change offers that little push we need to fulfill that dream or to take on a new task. Sometimes change is the reason we need to eradicate a poisonous presence from our lives.
I think of one of my favorite movies, called "Waitress." It's about the wife of an abusive husband who finds out she is pregnant. Throughout the pregnancy, she feels nothing but resentment towards her baby because she thinks she will now never have the chance to get away from her husband and her hopeless, small-town life. After giving birth, she looks at her baby. You can see her demeanor change immediately as she whispers, "Oh God." Her husband starts to say something, and she looks up with new-found strength that she's never shown before, and it makes you shiver. She tells her husband to get away from her baby because she hasn't loved him for years and wants a divorce. Her husband goes to hit her and is escorted out by doctors. You watch her face and see she cares for nothing but her little baby. That little miraculous change gave her the strength to make the changes she wanted so badly but couldn't make before. I've never wanted children more than when I saw that movie, but that's not the point.
The point is: we may fight and resent change all we want, but that day will come when you look in the mirror and see what miraculous change has been brought about by that thing you thought was a trial, and you give thanks for the broken road that got you to this point.
That moment happened for me near the end of my study abroad trip. Something reminded me of a conversation I had had with an ex-boyfriend. This abusive boyfriend was my tormentor for 2 years of my teenage life. A year into our relationship, I told him about a Europe choir trip I wanted to do. I wanted to go so badly.
"You won't go to Europe," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You don't have it in you. I just can't see you travelling anywhere, going anywhere."
I told myself I wouldn't let him change my mind, but my drive was already broken. That boy who controlled every part of my life had just told me I would not go to Europe, and I believed him. But somewhere deep inside me, that dream lived on, and I knew deep down that I would fulfill that dream someday, despite him. Throughout our relationship, he tore down any and all dreams I had until I was an empty shell, devoid of any love for life. When I was finally free of this tormentor, I slowly built my drive back up again. I began to dream once more. I dreamed of going to DC, to Europe, and beyond. I dreamed of visiting London and seeing castles in Ireland.
I saved up money for some trip though I did not know when the time would come or how it would present itself. A year ago, I saw an ad on the BYU-I website for the English Study Abroad tour to the United Kingdom and Ireland. I knew this was my ticket. I applied, got in and began to prepare. Fast forward a year later. I looked out the bus window at the British countryside. I was there. That's when I recalled that conversation with the tormentor, and I realized: I've done it.
"You won't go to Europe," I heard him say in the back of my memory.
"Ah, but I did," I answered, silencing him. Tears pricked my eyes as I realized this trip was the final step in annihilating any remainder of that experience that had been left in me. I exorcised the last ghost of my past that had been haunting me when I accomplished my dream in spite of him.
But who am I to take credit for this accomplishment? I remember right after I had broken up with that boy and had been abandoned in my pain. I prayed and accused God of abandoning me like that boyfriend had.
"Where are you?!" I cried at the silence. But the silence was broken. I opened my scripture to John, and one verse was literally illuminated by an unearthly light. It said, "I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you." And He did come to me. God wrapped me in his light and warmth, and God overcame my pain and regret. He healed me from the inside out, and he gave me many experiences to help me move on. He sent me to DC, and then, he sent me to Ireland, where I felt such peace I have never felt before. God has done everything for me that I have ever needed, and I will never stop trusting Him and His will for me.
Throughout these experiences, I've learned that nothing is out of God's reach and nothing is greater than Christ's atoning power. In that scene in the Waitress, I compare it to that day when I looked upon God and found the strength I needed to change. That woman had loved her baby so strongly, she found the strength to overcome the darkness in her life. Similarly, that day when God started healing me, I looked upon Him and felt a love stronger than anything I've ever known. I found this desire to serve Him always and work as hard as I could to be worthy to spend eternity in His presence. Though I lose sight sometimes of the important things, my knowledge of the living God's presence has never wavered I've never doubted His love and perfect plans for me, and I've never stopped loving Him. I will never stop loving my Lord, and I will never love anyone more than Him. If all I can do to show this love to Him is live my life, then I just pray that I can live the best life I can.
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