I love the Olympics. I love the events, the human-interest stories that make me friends with the athletes, and the camaraderie that is witnessed between competitors. Manmade political and geographical boundaries seem less important during these international games, and I love that. I have rooted for people from so many different countries once I learned their stories. What an amazing two weeks this is every two years (I’m counting the winter games that are in-between the summer ones).
One thing that has made these Olympics in Paris a little more fun for me, however, is that I have been to most of the places where events are being held. I recognize the famous places, the bridges, the names of streets, the subway signs, many of the buildings, the parks, and some of the cafes. I get sentimental as I see all the familiar sights.
As I’ve reflected about my sentimentality over the places in and around Paris, I admit to being a bit bemused. I saw one of the famous bridges on a broadcast and remembered how sore my feet were the day we crossed over, wondering at the time how I was possibly going to take another step. I have vague recollections of getting lost and wandering in circles with a rather confused GPS. I see people out in the sun and I recall getting so extremely overheated and having to rest on a hill near a beautiful government building that we couldn’t quite figure out what was. I’ve laughed as I recognized the restaurant where I was humiliated when I told the waiter, “Uno momento” because I couldn’t remember a single syllable of French.
Anyone who follows my travels knows that trouble follows me as assiduously. My trip to France was particularly wrought with insane ill-fated adventures. And yet… and yet as I view the scenes on the television night after night I am filled with longing to return; with emotion for wonderful times that have been.
I am grateful for these emotions, for they remind me of a very important fact: the human spirit is indomitable. As humans we are blessed to be able to forget the depth of pain of our experiences and remember the good instead. Take childbirth, as an example. If any woman really recalls giving birth, they can remember that it was pretty darn painful. But that isn’t what they are remembering when they look at the child that was born. There have been studies done (and no, I don’t have them to cite here, but just trust me on this) that show that women tend to forget the pain of childbirth within hours of the experience. That’s amazing!
It’s more than just physical pain, however. I have discovered that usually with the passage of time even the hardest experiences become softened in my memory. I recall things clearly, but definitely with a different lens – the lens of hindsight instead of immediate sight. What caused panic in a moment is seen so differently later. Getting lost in the underbelly of Paris looking for Train 7 was so stressful (and painful for my aching feet) in the moment, but something I find only amusing today.
Here’s another non-travel example. Take the time I tried to stop a VW Bug from rolling down a hill by getting behind it, planting my feet, and trying to stop it with my hands outstretched and “pushing” against the car. In reality I was just barely touching it as the car continued to roll, over my feet, and into the bushes. At the time I was stressed – and in a bit of pain. Today I look at that experience and see what I learned and laugh about the ridiculousness of it all. I have probably hundreds of such stories; times when I panicked or stressed in the moment but when it was over had memories softened by that ever-important hindsight. It makes me question why I allow myself to feel overwhelming negative emotions even in the moment.
Life can be so tough. Stress from work, children, neighbors, finances, physical struggles, school, mounting Job-like problems, and more can make us feel as though we will never escape the horrors or hardships of the present moment. One thing these Olympics have done for me, however, is remind me that indeed “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” No situation is ever permanent. If we can endure the moments we are in, hang on with hope for the future, then we can usually be assured that we will get on the other side of the current troubles.
I love the book Little Dorritt by Charles Dickens. Amy Dorritt is born in the Marshalsea debtors’ prison and is the only practical one within her family. Though she is the youngest, she finds ways to help her siblings and make life as comfortable as possible for her impractical, impecunious, and emotionally immature father. On paper her life really stinks, but Amy perseveres with a calmness that I so admire. When the family fortunes reverse – literally – and they are wealthy beyond anything they could have imagined, Amy remains the same placid soul as before; the change in circumstances doesn’t alter the way she views the world at all. In the end the fortune is lost, and Amy finds herself back where she began – in the Marshalsea, buoying up the one she loves. She didn’t allow life circumstances to determine her attitude and she kept believing that ultimately all would be well.
Amy Dorrit is the epitome of this line from Rudyard Kipling’s overused (and thus underappreciated) poem, If: “If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster/And treat those two imposters just the same…” The are both imposters! Life is moments – highs, lows, and calm waters. We won’t be in any for long, so enjoy what we can, endure what we must, and don’t believe that any moment is the only moment.
Amy Dorritt has long been a great example of who I wish to be (although, I’m fine avoiding extreme poverty, thank you). Keeping this perspective when things get super super super tough of remembering that there is always going to be a rearview mirror in my future that will prove that everything did work out – one way or the other – is a powerful antidote to help me endure. Besides, the worse the trial is, the better the stories are for the future!
As those great philosophers, the Sherman Brothers, stated in a song for the movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, “from the ashes of disaster grow the roses of success.” We can’t see the present clearly. It’s as though, to steal the Apostle Paul’s analogy, we are seeing through a glass darkly. Only with the benefit of looking back can we see the role difficulties played in our grand story, leading us to better things. Our roses of success are always waiting to bloom!
Anyway, as the Olympics wind to a close, I’m reminded of my incredible blessings. Paris (and France in general) may have held some rather difficult moments for me, but I wouldn’t change those for the world. In fact, I’m filled with longing to return. I know that I’m much braver for having driven in Paris and in the Pyrenees; I’m a better problem-solver; I am more aware of things I can do to alleviate getting overheated or killing my feet; I am able to pronounce “Tuileries”; and I know never to keep a train ticket anywhere near my driver’s license or credit cards. I really am grateful for knowing that pain will always give way to better things. Life is hectic right now and I don’t always feel like I’m succeeding in what I try to do, let alone in life overall. Remembering that these moments are just moments, however, and will definitely pass, helps me to appreciate the joy that always ultimately comes. There is always joy in my life!
Have a great week!
Look to God and Live... Joyfully! 