An Approach to Change

"...I sunk onto the bathroom floor flailing my arms around me, crying, and screaming to God that my life was ruined."

- Bridgit Muratore

An Approach to Change

My first car was a red two-door hatchback, named Rosie, who sped around the country roads as my faithful companion.  One spring afternoon we were racing home when I slowed to turn a corner and felt a slight limp at her side.  I gently pulled off the road and grimaced as I found one of her tires had gone flat.  I was two miles from my house and didn’t know what to do, so I called my dad.  Moments later, he pulled behind me and getting out of his truck, I felt relief flood over me.  My dad was my rock; always available to fix the things I found broken, sturdy to rest beside, and strong enough to conquer the obstacles of life.  He looked at me, looked at the flat tire, then back at me, and asked; “What’s the first thing you think you should do.”  I stood in front of him confused and speechless.  I had done the first thing I thought I should do – I called him!  Our eyes locked as seconds ticked by and I realized he was not going to fix the tire for me.  Instead, he talked me through each step as I changed the tire on my own.   

My dad provided a valuable lesson and a huge life gift that day.  I may not change many flat tires in my life but if needed, I know I can do it.  A few years later one of my college roommates rushed into our apartment with a frantic rise in her voice.  Her car had a flat tire, which was going to make her late for class.  I walked with her outside, looked at the tire then back at her and mimicking my dad I asked, “What’s the first thing you think you should do?”  Her response was not what I anticipated.  Tears and panic filled her face as her arms flailed around her and she cried out that her entire morning was ruined.  I calmed her as best I could and asked her to help me change the tire but by the end, she hadn’t learned to do any of it on her own.

After the death of my first husband, I spiraled into a world of loss, despair, and brokenness.  My heart was ripped from my chest, shattered into tiny pieces, stomped into dust, and placed back into the empty cavity.  I was forever damaged because I would no longer be someone’s virgin bride.  Like the scarlet letter “A” worn by adulterer’s, I had a stamp of “damaged goods” across my heart, with more baggage than Amtrak.  How would anyone be able to love me, along with the pain I carried?  

I also felt an expectation that because I was young, I was meant to bounce back, begin dating, remarry, and start over.  One evening I returned from a date and sunk onto the bathroom floor flailing my arms around me, crying, and screaming to God that my life was ruined.  My body ached for a man I could no longer have and scrutinized the actions of dating again.  The more I liked someone new the deeper into guilt my mind hurled me.  I couldn’t shake the trap, so I spiraled into shame and hated myself for being lonely.  Dating had changed.  I had changed.  I couldn’t go back to the carefree girl I had been prior to my marriage.  Change was all around me and I wasn’t enjoying any of it.  

"I can approach change from a place of curiosity, or I can approach change from victimhood."

One of the practices of Emphory is “Everything is in constant change” and I used to view this from a place of numbness.  I thought change happened to me but am now learning the way I approach change impacts the change I experience.  I can approach change from a place of curiosity, or I can approach change from victimhood.  When my dad pulled alongside me to talk me through changing my first flat tire, I dug into the things I knew, and he guided me the rest of the way.  Now when life changes, I have choice to lean into learning, listen for guidance, or flail my arms around me and fall into panic.  Everything is in constant change, and I have a choice in how I face that change.  I’m thankful to my dad for teaching moments like the hatchback’s first flat tire that gave me confidence in my future.  There are also times I want to flail my arms and cry out that life is tough.  Both options are allowed.  The more I dive into the Emphory practices the more I recognize that I desire a curiosity approach to change.  There may still be times in my life that are unpleasant but if I approach those times with a curious intent to learn, I can find guidance in unexpected ways.  The evening my husband took his final breath my dad was sitting next me.  I was able to say goodbye to the man I chose to marry and then turn to the first man who loved me.  I am grateful my dad is sturdy to rest beside, strong enough to conquer the obstacles of life, and always available to fix the things I find broken.