The Guest House - Giving Thanks for Pain

Its Thanksgiving morning, cold, crisp, with the sun just starting to creep up over the treetops. Its going to be a beautiful day. I'm sure there's many songs out there about this day, but none of them come to me at the moment.

Instead, I sit in the dark of my living room, candles burning, and Gregorian chants softly playing in the background. I let my mind drift back over the past year, and feel humbled by the deep sense of peace and calm that fills me. I truly understand the meaning of this day like I never did before.

A year ago, I was in the midst of a turbulent storm brought on by finally filing for personal bankruptcy. My life had shattered into a million tiny pieces, and despair, fear and chaos filled my heart and soul. I was grieving like I had never grieved before, completely at a loss, and standing in the midst of wreckage. I surrendered completely at that point. I could do no more, except cry and pray for an end to the pain.

A year ago today, I was reaching for the little things in my life I was grateful for: my sweet loving supportive boyfriend Bill, my close friends who hugged me whenever they saw me, my family who stood by me even though they didn't understand how I had gotten to the place I had, my snug little house that I wasn't sure I would be able to keep, and the wonderful smells coming from my kitchen as I prepared a Thanksgiving feast, excited about the gathering of friends that was to happen later that day, ready to share good food and company.

It was being thankful for those things that helped me weather that storm. The feeling of having your life turned upside down is indescribable. While I've never been through a natural disaster like a flood or hurricane, I can empathize with those who have been through it, knowing that feeling of losing your life as you have known it.

But it is precisely that feelings of being ripped from your safe harbor that is the gift, the blessing. If you had told me a year ago I would be looking back on bankruptcy as a blessing, I would have laughed in your face and told you you were crazy. But here I am, a year later, thinking exactly that thought.

That storm caused me to look at my life as I never had before, and admit that it wasn't working. I just didn't have the courage to change it. Its hard to change, when even what you're living with causes you misery. Even if it totally sucks, its still familiar. We know what to expect, and that is comforting. I wouldn't have voluntarily changed.

But here I am, a year later, still uncertain exactly where I'm going, but grateful that the nightmare forced me to reevaluate my life in ways that I never could have anticipated. There's a poem by Rumi that I absolutely love, and go back to time and time again which so eloquently describes this experience, called The Guest House:

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Today, as you celebrate with friends and family, have the courage to look at your life. If there is something that isn't working, look it in the face and say hello. Maybe its a gift that is patiently knocking at your door. Open the door before it becomes a force so big, you can't ignore it. For this lesson, I am deeply grateful.