Who Can Save a Soul?

When every path seems to end at crashing into the rocks...

“In ordinary life, we hardly realize that we receive a great deal more than we give, and that it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.”

—Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Ninety-nine percent of the time I sit down to write something, and the end turns out quite differently than my original intent. So if I stray a bit by the end, I blame it on a wandering heart and passion that always outruns the words I try to pin to them. Maybe it’s too much Hugo-esque romantic tangent left over from reading The Toilers of the Sea.

What I mean to express is my heartfelt gratitude for the few people who have acted as shepherds to this often lost sheep. In a time when it is effortless to communicate with thousands of people in the palm of one’s hand, it is remarkably easy to drown in the shallows of despair and isolation. So, it means that much more when someone sees the wayward creature and rather than go about his business with the tasks before him, leaving the wilds of the cruel wilderness to “take care” of it, he retrieves it from certain untimely ends.

I can’t claim as mentors in a formal sense those who saved me from the wilds of my own self-doubt and crippling insecurity. But, whether they meant to or not, their advice, tough love, criticism, and encouragement have lightened a heart beating with a heavy burden. This is a post dedicated to those people. And perhaps, if you’re reading this, you have a person or people who have shined the light on a dark path. Or the guiding hand when you’re blinded by fear or sadness, or anger.

C.S. Lewis wrote about the Inner Ring and the dangers of its selfish pursuit,

You were not looking for virtue or kindness or loyalty or humor or learning or wit or any of the things that can be really enjoyed. You merely wanted to be "in." And that is a pleasure that cannot last.

I’ve seen the effects of a person who trades his principles for a glance inside the clique but never worried about trying to gain entry. I am the perpetual outsider.

But what I fail to see, even as Lewis warned against the dangers, is the unquestionable benefit of comradery amongst those who hold tight the good and true.

And if in your spare time you consort simply with the people you like, you will again find that you have come unawares to a real inside: that you are indeed snug and safe at the center of something which, seen from without, would look exactly like an Inner Ring. But the difference is that its secrecy is accidental, and its exclusiveness a by-product, and no one was led thither by the lure of the esoteric: for it is only four or five people who like one another meeting to do things that they like. This is friendship. Aristotle placed it among the virtues. It causes perhaps half of all the happiness in the world, and no Inner Ring can ever have it.

When I was first encouraged to pursue writing, it was as if I was given the key to the Secret Garden. And I could help tend the grounds! It was a priceless gift for someone who spent a lifetime being on the outside looking in. I was the poor kid in hand-me-downs with her hot little forehead pressed against the window. I spent my formative years as a bookish introvert who dedicated her time to school and sports. Friendships beyond my family were non-existent, and it mostly persists today. Growing up, it taught me self-reliance and I developed fierce independence, but it left a cavernous hole that personal relationships should fill. My long-suffering husband should be eligible for sainthood by now, being my only partner to ride the rollercoaster of ups and downs. At my desk, no one seemed to care that I was Quasimodo. There are no pariahs, no diktat, and no allegiance to this ideology or that. The boundaries are limited only by the interests and opinions and thoughts of the day.

I very nearly gave up recently. My mind seems to be a soft target for personal anguish and dejection. The details don’t matter – they hardly ever do – but every setback cancels the gains by twofold. I’m very used to rejection. I think anyone who hasn’t gone through failure isn’t trying hard enough at life. But lately the no’s piled up higher than I could see past. Every rejection was a confirmation that I was an unwanted soul. I believed God had picked me for his amusement: To lead me on by dangling a few morsels of hope, only to watch me trip and fall flat on my back. He was Lucy with the football, and I was the pathetic Charlie Brown. I wondered if the pain was worth the process. But in the darkest time, even the faintest light can reveal a path out of the desolation. I was given that light by someone who has the wisdom, insight, and grace to understand that to write is to be. And this may be my chance to fulfill a purpose — probably not to change anyone’s mind, or be an earth-shaker, or cross any ‘important’ person’s radar, but to pass on such generosities that have given me so much.

In closing, I want to express my deepest, most sincere appreciation for those who reached out to the unpopular kid in class (this is starting to sound like a John Hughes film…) who had nothing to offer in return for a morsel of advice. I’m thankful for the men and women who contribute constant enrichment, especially on matters outside the political realm, because life is so much more than that, despite what we’re led to believe. I’m grateful for the people who continue to make political and cultural challenges fun and interesting instead of life-or-death perpetual wars.

It took me many years to plant my feet on dry ground, even now the rushing river never seems far off, threatening to wash away the terra firma, and me with it. But just as I feel my feet unsteady beneath me, I see an outstretched hand. So I hope to convey how a kind word, an extra minute of care, a sincere response, or an honest bucking can change a life. It changed mine after nearly forty years of slog. And even though I’m far from any writing “goal,” or destination — if there is such a silly thing to imagine, I’ll be sure to do the same for that struggling, despondent, kid rounding the corner on her own path. Because it can make all the difference in the world.

“Then overwhelmed by the sense of that unknown infinity, like one bewildered by a strange persecution, confronting the shadows of night, in the presence of that impenetrable darkness, in the midst of the murmur of the waves, the swell, the foam, the breeze, under the clouds, under that vast diffusion of force, under that mysterious firmament of wings, of stars, of gulfs, having around him and beneath him the ocean above him the constellations, under the great unfathomable deep, he sank, gave up the struggle, lay down upon the rock, his face towards the stars, humble, and uplifting his joined hands towards the terrible depths, he cried aloud, "Have mercy.”
― Victor Hugo, The Toilers of the Sea

I’m certain none of these people will ever read this post, but I want to recognize them for their selflessness, generosity, and kindness. They saved a soul without blinking an eye.

James Lileks, Ben Domenech, Dave Carter, EJ Hill, Bethany Mendel, John Hinderaker, Tony Woodlief, Bobby Franklin.

My parents, brothers and sisters-in-law, and of course my knight in shining armor and our son.