Over the past month, I’ve gone through an assortment of grieving and questioning. This process, in great regard, put all writing on hold. Upon our arrival back to CA from a visit to the east coast, I went through both culture shock and homesickness--neither of which I'd yet undergone since our move 10 months ago. This experience was just one area of emotional processing.
In the midst of settling back into our life here, I was struck by a conviction involving part of my life’s calling. While watching the movie “Spotlight," my heart was incredibly burdened. If you haven't seen the film, it's about the journalists from the Boston Globe who uncovered the sexual abuse scandals within the Catholic Church around Boston in the early 2000s.
If you know me, you may be as surprised as I was to discover which aspect of the film burdened my heart. There is no question that learning about impoverished children being sexually assaulted for decades was heartbreaking. But more than anything, the story gave me this overwhelming sense that I somehow missed the mark in my undergraduate studies.
During my college years, I was in the perfect position as an editor to pursue writing and journalism. In many ways, I knew I wanted to educate others and communicate the world’s darkest secrets and deepest hurts, but I was scared. I acted out of fear and listened to voices that said journalism was a waste of a degree and that there were too many unknowns in pursuing the arts. My unwise answer was to study a little bit of this and that, travel a great deal, transfer schools several times, and incur massive amounts of debt in the process. It was a pretty chaotic four years. Don't get me wrong, in many regards it was also a beautiful hodgepodge of life experiences—an expensive hodgepodge, but beautiful nonetheless.
The second occurrence of my convictions came as I continued reading Makoto Fujimura’s, “Silence and Beauty” the day after watching "Spotlight." Simply put, it’s a book about Christian persecution in Japan, the cultural role of art and beauty, and a reflection of Shūsaku Endō's novel, "Silence". It’s a worthy read involving the intricacies of Fujimura’s life as a Japanese American child, student, and artist.
On the page where I left off, Fujimura shares the story of a journalist who was held hostage and later killed while searching for a friend he suspected was taken captive by ISIS. It turned out that this journalist was also a Christian working to tell the stories of children and orphans in war-torn zones. What an incredible image of living out the Christian call to sacrifice all comfort, even to the point of death, while working within one's gifts and passions.
From both stories, I was reminded how doing the work of love and justice could look like so many different paths. I was challenged in how hard I fought to avoid surrendering to the call to work in the field of publications. In college, I was in the perfect place to follow out this call and to receive the training in the art of journalism. Instead, I denied that desire to continue pursuing other areas of academia and intercultural studies. I had a job in publications that helped pay for my degree, and later more opportunities to grow and be mentored in the field, but I threw it away time and time again.
I don’t share this to say that it’s necessarily too late or that I necessarily missed my chance. I share it to say that I recognize my disobedience in my college pursuits. I share it to say that this past month has been one of grieving, questioning, and processing.
I’m all for being present wherever it is I find myself. But friends, there are also the realities of obedience and disobedience, of putting up a fight and of knowing when to surrender.
Sometimes in life there is a fine, beautiful, and grace-filled line in these areas of our lives. And yet, the outcomes will look different depending on the paths we choose. In many ways, I chose chaos for those four and some odd years, and only now can I look back and seek to discern what that means for my life and my family now. In all of this, where I am right now is in the questioning, considering, and praying as to whether or not the time is now to continue writing, growing and stretching out these muscles that were on the shelf for nearly seven years or if perhaps that time is later, or sadly, but potentially not at all.
What I'm talking about in all of this is the reality of life's consequences. I think the sooner I can question and deal with life's consequences, the sooner I can step into fuller joy and contentment of living in the present.
Have you had experiences like this? Experiences where you look back on life and wonder how things may have panned out if you made a few, slightly different decisions? I’d love to hear about them and how you navigated your thoughts during that time.
To order "Silence and Beauty" by Makoto Fujimura or "Silence" by Shūsaku Endō's through my affiliate links, click below.