If you were climbing stairs and you reached the halfway point, would you sit down and lament about how the fourth stair almost tripped you and you just don’t understand why it would do that? Hey, don’t laugh at me. It sounds silly, but I’ve been guilty of that at certain times in my life.
Something about the past seems to take a hold of us. Or, maybe it is just us reluctant to release our hold of it. As painful as it can be, it’s what we know. It’s what built us. It’s our sacred history, despite the fact that we may not like the story it tells.
Problem: Sometimes we end up stuck in the past. Crippled or comforted (oddly enough) by what seems like pain, injustice, or loss.
*Cue epiphany* Thanks to time, “it” became the past. Whether I walked through, slept through, fell through, or am still connected to, it’s the past and I’ve passed it. Since there are more stairs to climb, the only reason to sit down and chat about the fourth, sixth, and eighth stair is to patch up the nick it gave me along the way. Let’s be real. Sometimes that nick is more like a broken bone, or, better yet, a “broken heart” which is harder to splint. The point is, sit, rest, patch up, heal, but don’t stay there. By simply getting up and climbing more stairs you will get stronger.