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First, you have to assess the damage. You've seen the movies where people walk through devastation following a tsunami. They are dumbfounded as they look around the flattened landscape where their homes, villages, plant life, and people used to be. Pretty much everything is gone!
As painful as it is, following our own deconstructions, we have to see it honestly, with eyes wide open, and look the destruction straight in the face. We have to be honest with what happened and what it has caused. There's no point in saying that nothing or little happened, that it's not that bad, or that this is manageable. It's none of those.
Like nature's tsunamis, spiritual tsunamis are just as overwhelming and destructive. Because they not only catch us off guard and therefore vulnerable, but they leave us even devastated and feeling even more vulnerable. They level, destroy, and take things. They change our landscape forever.
To be honest, when I went through my deconstruction, the damage was unbelievable. I still have a hard time remembering and accepting it. It did take me a while to wake up and finally assess it all. Everything had been touched: my church, my faith, my beliefs, my religion, my finances, my family, my friends, me. Everything!
Now you have to decide what's worth saving and what no longer serves you. Even though it looks like a complete waste, there are things in the mess that can be saved. Underneath the rubble are things that can be salvaged. It means poking through all the mess to find a little good.
When we realize everything and anything can be taken from us in an instant, every little thing takes on enormous value. It might be small, like a photograph, but how precious such a little thing becomes.
There was a lot I had to throw out. There was the church I had to let go. There were people I had to say goodbye to. My relationship with Lisa changed dramatically: we had to say farewell to our naive kind of love and welcome a changed and more mature one. I had to immerse myself into a much deeper and honest kind of thinking about what I believed and what I knew to be true.
It was a crisis of faith. There were a lot of beliefs I allowed to go. There were a lot of things I thought which needed work. Some things survived but needed repair or upgrading. As brutal as tossing things might feel, saving things feels hopeful and somehow redeems the process.