Turn, turn, turn

Don't cry because it is over.  Smile because it happened.  -Dr. Suess

Many people have told me that they believe that things happen for a reason. In my 29 years of existence, I have never been able to grasp this concept, and as a result, it is one that I have given up on. Instead, I have decided that sometimes crappy stuff just happens—not for any particular reason except that crappy stuff happens in life—but that within those crappy things, I can find purpose. I can try to make sense of it all, and try to walk away from it stronger than when I first approached it. Let me be clear to say that I don’t walk into crappy situations thinking, “man, I am looking forward to getting stronger as a result of the significant pain I am about to experience,” but I do work to understand and accept the situation, allowing myself to grow stronger as a result.

Crappy stuff happens. There are moron drivers who are going to rear-end us. People we love are going to die. We are going to get sick on the one day we wanted to be healthy. Injuries during training will occur. Natural disasters will steal our homes, belongings, even loved ones. Jobs will be lost. Our hearts will be broken.

And then comes the noise—the overwhelming, slap-in-the-face of reality, when that crappy stuff happens. The reality that we try to escape when we go to sleep, waking up hoping it was only a dream—but it was not. The tornado within our hearts rages like a fury and destroying any logical thought and hope we had. The point at which we are not sure if we should explode, implode, or hide. Where our heads are stuck in a vacuum and we cannot find the way out.

After the noise—silence. When the tears are dry, the anger is gone, and we are left with only the echoing sadness of our hearts.

And that is where the journey to healing and strength can occur. When the raging storm slows to a drizzle.

To everything there is a season and a purpose under heaven, it says in Ecclesiastes (or in a song by the Byrds, if you prefer that).

Whether preparing to say good-bye to a car after 8 years, or a 41 day life chapter, or a life-long dream, the sun will still rise tomorrow and the world will still go on turning.

Today I will work to find purpose. To look at life through new lenses. To smile because it happened, rather than cry because it is over.

We have all been here before.  And we will all be here again.  How do you do move forward when the silence comes?  How do you work to find purpose?  In the stroke of a brush, the strum of a string, the step of a foot?