I have had some wild summers, but the craziest was my 21st summer. While most 21-year-olds were working their way through bars and shot glasses, I signed a ‘no alcohol’ clause and chose to live in a tent in the outskirts of Tijuana, Mexico. For three months I built 11x22 foot “homes” – more like sheds in American standards. They had a concrete floor, framed walls, a stucco exterior, and a roof that hopefully did not leak. The summer ended with a great climax. I had just finished building a house for a grandmother, her daughter, son-in-law, and three small children. As I stood back and admired the modest two-room structure that would shelter six people, the grandmother started hugging me and through her tears continued to say, “No mas noches frios” (no more cold nights.) In that moment, I felt powerful. I felt like a hero. I made a difference. And then I saw her.
She was a tiny little girl named Maria. I assumed she was three years old, but learned that she was actually seven. Her small size was due to her being born with a hole in her heart. She was not expected to live much longer. In an instant, my world turned upside down. We were fifteen miles from the US Border. Had she been born north of that line, her heart would have been fixed and in all likelihood she would have had a normal life. I grew angry and eventually rage-filled at the injustice. I was angry at God for allowing her to be born just a little too far south into a family with too little money. I was angry at myself for not being a doctor, for not having a million dollars so I could fly this child north and pay for her heart to be fixed. I was angry at the powerlessness and helplessness I felt at that moment.
Maria awakened the vulnerable part of myself, though at the time I lacked the words to express this. I returned from this summer changed. My world was turned upside down. Up until then, I relied on my heroic strength and work ethic to maintain my illusion of power and control. I was a good kid who did good things. Up until that point, I strongly believed that I could fix anything, including myself.
In the upside-down world, I confronted my own powerlessness – my inability to help myself. If I am honest, I will confess that there are moments (okay, long moments) when I cannot stand to face my vulnerability. I try and block it out of my mind, think about something else, or go fix something in need of repair. I look for ways to feel powerful, to feel like a hero, to feel like I have accomplished something significant mostly in vain attempt to forget how helpless I really feel.
I can only patch so much drywall, scrub so much carpet, and pull so many weeds. Eventually I run out of tasks and once again I get quiet. Once again, I am reminded that there are things in my life that I cannot repair or redo. When I stop running from it, when I slow down enough to sit with my helplessness, when I am brave enough to share it with a trusted other, I find that I am only met with mercy and tenderness. The overwhelming anxiety begins to subside and I come to know a peace that passes understanding. I am okay. I will be okay.
One of these days I will stop running and trying to hide from my powerless and helpless feelings. One of these days I will trust that it is in my helplessness that I find surrender. It is in the surrender that I find freedom. In the freedom, I find peace.
Next . . . “V” for Vitality.
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