Revisiting A Woman's Infinite Learning Curve

Earlier today, I uttered words to a friend that expressed the pain I felt spinning at each end of the spectrum that illustrates my life.

I have been told that no matter what choice you make there is always going to be grief over something you chose not to do. I think the worst kind of grief is looking back over your life and feeling like you did not do much of anything that you wanted to do, so there isn't a prevalence of one thing over another to grieve about. For me, this feels like the greatest loss.

I stare at my life, as pictured in the piece of art in this post, and feel like ripping it into two pieces. But that misses the point of an integrated life entirely, which speaks to the gut-wrenching pain of shame. The choice Eve made in the Garden of Eden seemed severing. But not to God. Yes, Eve had to leave the Garden, temporarily. In God's mind and heart, Eve's life moved on a continuum. She would be back. She would come back to being with God the way she knew Him in the Garden.

My life does the same. If I sever the the two ends of the spectrum, I lose the whole, however painful that whole may be. It is my story. To rip it in two now, would be to lose the beauty and purpose of my story.

This is hard for me to hold onto today. I feel as though I am wrestling with both ends of the continuum. It may appear to be one of those exercise bands in which resistance strengthens, but I am wearing myself out. How do I hold on to my story, with its two ends that feel like they both symbolize loss? How can anything whole be made out of this? I am hanging on to both ends, wrestling through the pain, with the hope that in writing the truth of my story acceptance and wholeness will come. I will continue from where I am, picking up the pieces (as it says on the front of the journal I have created for the journey I am taking as I read Traveling with Pomegranates) and seeing the integration of my life as I do so.