When It Hits Close to Home : My Ultimate Lesson ( Thus Far)

I’m still here. I just haven’t been writing.

For those who follow my posts and may have noticed that I’ve been quieter than usual, there is a reason.

My mother is seriously ill.

And for once, instead of writing about what someone else should do when life gets difficult, I have found myself having to live many of the very lessons I have spent years teaching others.

That changes things.

I have mentored people through some of the darkest periods of their lives. I have encouraged people when they wanted to give up. I have spoken about emotional discipline, resilience, faith, controlling what you can control, accepting what you cannot, and finding the strength to keep moving when life refuses to cooperate.

I believed every word.

I still do.

But there is a difference between teaching something and having life suddenly hand you the examination.

When the Teacher Becomes the Student

It is easy to tell someone, “Stay strong.”

It is different when you are the one trying to stay strong.

It is easy to say, “Have faith.”

It is different when the circumstances in front of you are testing that faith.

It is easy to tell someone not to think about the worst possible outcome.

It is different when it is your mother lying there and your own mind is fighting battles you never asked it to fight.

That is when knowledge becomes experience.

And experience gives understanding a depth that advice alone simply cannot provide.

I now understand certain emotions differently.

Not because I suddenly became wiser.

Because I became the person in the situation.

Experience Changes the Way You Help People

There are things we can learn from books.

There are things mentors can teach us.

There are lessons we can learn by watching other people.

And then there are lessons life insists on teaching personally.

Those lessons hit differently.

After you have experienced fear, your conversations with frightened people change.

After you have experienced uncertainty, you become more patient with someone who doesn’t know what to do next.

After you have watched someone you love fight for their life, the phrase “I understand what you’re going through” carries a completely different responsibility.

Sometimes the best mentor isn’t the person with the perfect words.

Sometimes it is the person who can sit beside you and say:

“I have been there. I know what those hours feel like.”

That kind of understanding cannot be downloaded.

It has to be lived.

Even My Faith Has Been Tested

I won’t pretend otherwise.

My faith has been tested.

And I think sometimes we make faith sound too easy.

We speak as though having faith means never becoming afraid, never questioning, never crying and never feeling overwhelmed.

I don’t believe that anymore.

Faith isn’t necessarily the absence of fear.

Sometimes faith is being scared and still believing.

Sometimes faith is having questions and still praying.

Sometimes faith is hearing things you don’t want to hear and still refusing to surrender your hope.

Sometimes faith is simply saying:

“God, I don’t understand this. I don’t like this. I don’t know how this ends. But I’m still here, and I’m still trusting You.”

That is where I am.

Still holding firm.

Life Has a Way of Testing Your Own Lessons

Maybe that is part of growth.

Eventually life asks us whether the principles we give everyone else are principles we can live ourselves.

I’ve told people to control their emotions.

Now I must control mine.

I’ve told people to remain positive in difficult circumstances.

Now I must search for positivity when my own circumstances are difficult.

I’ve told people not to allow fear to write tomorrow’s story before tomorrow arrives.

Now I have to remind myself of the same thing.

I’ve told people to have faith.

Now I have to exercise mine.

The teacher has become the student.

And perhaps when this chapter is over, I will be a better teacher because of it.

So, Yes—I Am Still Here

I’m still writing.

I’m still thinking.

I’m still learning.

I’m still believing.

But right now, my priorities have shifted because someone who means more to me than words can properly explain needs my presence more than the world needs another post from me.

And strangely enough, even in this incredibly difficult chapter, life is still teaching me.

When I return to mentoring someone facing a family crisis, I will understand differently.

When someone tells me they are frightened, I will listen differently.

When someone tells me their faith is being tested, I won’t rush to throw motivational words at them.

I will understand the battle between what you believe and what you see.

And maybe that is one of life’s hardest lessons:

Some things you can sympathize with from the outside.
Some things you can only truly understand after you’ve stood on the inside.

So if you’re wondering where I’ve been—

I’m still here.

I’m just living through a chapter before I write the lessons from it.

My faith has been tested.

My strength has been tested.

My emotions have been tested.

But I am still standing.

Still praying.
Still believing.
Still holding firm.

And when life allows me to turn this chapter into another lesson for someone else, I will teach it differently—

because this time, I didn’t just study the lesson from the eyes on the outside or put myself in someone’s shoes

I lived it. Am in the shoes seeing firsthand with my own eyes!

— Kerwin Boxill