Tunnels.
Do you hold your breath?
Close your eyes?
Or do you focus solely on the darkness, waiting to see the light at the end?
It seems that life is a collection of processes. Everything that happens, everything we do or accomplish, everything we learn, both the hard, worthwhile things and the good, joyful things, requires a process. There is a beginning and an end and everything that happens in between – one tunnel leading to another with light beckoning us onward and through. Some of them are short, like Backbone Rock in Tennessee, 80 feet high and only 20 feet long. Some seem endless like The Gotthard Tunnel that runs under the Swiss Alps, reaches a depth of 2300 meters and is 35.5 miles long. That is a lot of rock on top of a through route. Not literally endless but it may seem so before that blessed light would be visible. The light is so significant then – a relief, an accomplishment, a sign that you made it through, an ending.
The interesting thing about life’s tunnels is what we learn and gain as we travel through them. It is human nature to want life to be easy. But life’s only obligation is to be interesting. And all this planet owes us is the dirt beneath our feet as we make our way. (Post childhood, of course). There are things we may wonder about and there are things we are meant to discover. What are we here for and where are we going? How do we survive, who do we look to, how do we learn to love and understand our connection to each other, what do we believe, how do we achieve and thrive?
Remember the game Snakes and Ladders? Life is a game of fields and tunnels. The fields are where the answers to those questions are like daisies waiting to be picked and enjoyed. The tunnels, however, are a challenge. If you’re a breath holder, the short tunnels are easily endured and the long ones torturous. The long tunnels are where those answers can’t easily be seen and the darkness causes us to walk with our arms outstretched, hands searching for the jagged obstacles that could cause us injury. It’s where we take trembling steps hoping for solid ground beneath us and our progress is therefore incremental. The tunnels are tubes of the mundane and the occasionally miraculous. They are the conduit for the imagined to become the realized. It’s where we find rods to divine sustenance, will, resilience, knowledge, and skills. The tunnels are where we hope to find companions with whom we share provisions, navigation tools, and for whom we cheer and encourage and hold space, tending to each others wounds and weariness. It is in these long tunnels where our courage often fails us when we see the distance we’ve come is equal to the distance yet to travel. It’s where we fall to our knees and accept that we can’t do it alone. In that dim space we learn the value and goodness of rest, of community and of the faithfulness of God. Every day, every step, we develop new muscles, test our intellect and increase our capacities. And all along we strain our eyes, focus on the distant light and imagine the sun drenched field beyond the end.
It’s understandable. The fields are wonderful, necessary places of reprieve and recovery. We are drawn to the abundance of beauty and ease there. But the tunnels? They are not passageways of lack. The tunnels are the long night of sophisticated, eternal architecture. And what you will find at the end of them…is a mirror.
But what of the light that became more radiant the closer you came, the light that was your incentive and strength?
It was you; increasing in brightness and being. It was in you, around you, it was always with you. A ray of glory urging you onward, reflecting back to you your burgeoning, brilliant, story.
Something to Shay 