Sometimes life feels the same way
that fresh cookies smell.
And, sometimes you burn the batch.
I’ve noticed that when things don’t seem very good, I start to believe
that something is wrong with me, or with God, or with life itself. If life were a function, it would be a cosine. (If you’re wondering why I didn’t choose sine instead, control yourself, nerd.)
What I mean is that all of us experience those very natural lows in life, and
it’s important that we understand how very normal they are. I'd like to elaborate.
Sometimes, and I emphasize “sometimes”:
It’s normal to guess at the weather, or accidentally not
guess at the weather.
It’s normal to embarrass yourself and replay the moment 8
times in your mind.
It’s normal to wake up just feeling totally not stoked on
life.
It’s normal to feel the urge to chuck something valuable
into the street for no reason.
It’s normal to look at yourself in the mirror and feel kind
of disappointed.
It’s normal to forget that people are the most important
thing, and hurt someone.
It’s normal to feel like you’ve wasted your time when you
didn’t have enough.
It’s normal to find out you’re not as good at something as
you had hoped, and to be bummed.
It’s normal to feel sad for people who eat alone, or live
alone, or feel alone.
It’s normal to feel lonely, or unwanted, or both.
It’s normal to wonder what your grand purpose in life is and not really know the answer.
It’s normal to just forget to do something you really, really needed to
do.
It’s normal to look at what you don’t have and to long for it.
It’s normal to accidentally complain to people who are
already having a hard day.
It’s normal to wish you could be better at... everything.
It’s normal to lose someone you really cared about.
It’s normal to feel no hope at all.
It’s normal to stub your toe on the couch.
It’s normal to get a little irritated when you are in a
rush.
It’s normal to be prideful enough to think you’re better
than other people.
It’s normal to feel like God is hard to find.
It’s normal to notice that the strength of an important
relationship is waning.
It’s normal to feel like you’re running out of good jokes.
It’s normal to feel tempted to do things you shouldn’t do.
It’s normal to be angry with other people for their mistakes or weaknesses.
It’s normal to figure you know what you want, but feel like it's impossible.
It’s normal to feel like things are too hard, and to just
give up for an hour, or a month.
It’s normal to not really know what you want, both in the small and most critical things.
It’s normal to realize that the only thing that revolves
around you is your belt.
It’s normal to have an "off" day, and not feel like yourself.
It’s normal to make mistakes - mistakes that hurt you and other people.
It’s normal to regret how you’ve spent your time, or how you
didn’t spend it.
It’s normal to be a little unsure of yourself.
It’s normal to not know how to help someone that really
needs it.
It’s normal to turn into a monster, or a total goofball, when
you’re tired.
It’s normal to be selfish in ways that make you cringe later.
It’s normal to feel totally helpless.
It’s normal to miss someone you love in a way that feels a
lot like pain.
It’s normal to feel like there is something else you’d
rather be doing.
It’s normal to just outright fail at something.
It’s normal to be sad.
Normal is not the antonym of special, or
divine, or destined to be something beautiful in every respect of the word. Normal is something we all experience, and something we all need. The downs of life are balanced by the ups, and the further down we go, the further up we can go. The Savior of the world condescended beneath all things, and through that experience, is able, equally, to do infinite good.
We have weaknesses. We are imperfect. We need help. We need time. We make mistakes.
It's okay.
We are worthy of
love from others, and from God, and from ourselves, and we can succeed.
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For those who are feeling intrigued by the topic, I will continue.
C.S. Lewis mentions the idea that life always has natural ups and downs in "The Screwtape Letters", written from the perspective of a devil, Screwtape, training his devil-nephew, Wormwood, in the ways of temptation.
VIII
MY DEAR WORMWOOD,
So you "have great hopes that the patient's religious phase is dying away", have you? I always thought the Training College had gone to pieces since they put old Slubgob at the head of it, and now I am sure. Has no one ever told you about the law of Undulation?
Humans are amphibians—half spirit and half animal. (The Enemy's determination to produce such a revolting hybrid was one of the things that determined Our Father to withdraw his support from Him.) As spirits they belong to the eternal world, but as animals they inhabit time. This means that while their spirit can be directed to an eternal object, their bodies, passions, and imaginations are in continual change, for to be in time means to change. Their nearest approach to constancy, therefore, is undulation—the repeated return to a level from which they repeatedly fall back, a series of troughs and peaks. If you had watched your patient carefully you would have seen this undulation in every department of his life—his interest in his work, his affection for his friends, his physical appetites, all go up and down. As long as he lives on earth periods of emotional and bodily richness and liveliness will alternate with periods of numbness and poverty.
The dryness and dulness through which your patient is now going are not, as you fondly suppose, your workmanship; they are merely a natural phenomenon which will do us no good unless you make a good use of it. To decide what the best use of it is, you must ask what use the Enemy wants to make of it, and then do the opposite. Now it may surprise you to learn that in His efforts to get permanent possession of a soul, He relies on the troughs even more than on the peaks; some of His special favourites have gone through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else. The reason is this. To us a human is primarily good; our aim is the absorption of its will into ours, the increase of our own area of selfhood at its expense.
But the obedience which the Enemy demands of men is quite a different thing. One must face the fact that all the talk about His love for men, and His service being perfect freedom, is not (as one would gladly believe) mere propaganda, but an appalling truth. He really does want to fill the universe with a lot of loathsome little replicas of Himself—creatures, whose life, on its miniature scale, will be qualitatively like His own, not because He has absorbed them but because their wills freely conform to His. We want cattle who can finally become food; He wants servants who can finally become sons. We want to suck in, He wants to give out. We are empty and would be filled; He is full and flows over. Our war aim is a world in which Our Father Below has drawn all other beings into himself: the Enemy wants a world full of beings united to Him but still distinct.
And that is where the troughs come in. You must have often wondered why the Enemy does not make more use of His power to be sensibly present to human souls in any degree He chooses and at any moment. But you now see that the Irresistible and the Indisputable are the two weapons which the very nature of His scheme forbids Him to use. Merely to over-ride a human will (as His felt presence in any but the faintest and most mitigated degree would certainly do) would be for Him useless. He cannot ravish. He can only woo. For His ignoble idea is to eat the cake and have it; the creatures are to be one with Him, but yet themselves; merely to cancel them, or assimilate them, will not serve. He is prepared to do a little overriding at the beginning. He will set them off with communications of His presence which, though faint, seem great to them, with emotional sweetness, and easy conquest over temptation. But He never allows this state of affairs to last long.
Sooner or later He withdraws, if not in fact, at least from their conscious experience, all those supports and incentives. He leaves the creature to stand up on its own legs—to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish. It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in the state of dryness are those which please Him best. We can drag our patients along by continual tempting, because we design them only for the table, and the more their will is interfered with the better. He cannot "tempt" to virtue as we do to vice. He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger, than when a human, no longer desiring, but intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys. But of course the troughs afford opportunities to our side also. Next week I will give you some hints on how to exploit them, Your affectionate uncle SCREWTAPE