Symptomatic

While on holiday at my parents home, I am without my trusted steed, my beloved metal box, my small but reliable Honda Civic. This is all well and good because apparently he's sleeping under about 2 feet of snow (probably deserved the rest). But, what that means is, when I want or need to go somewhere here in NC, I have to borrow my Dad's monster... I mean truck. Picture an 18 wheeler, and then downsize it just a teeny little bit...

Now, lest you worry, this truck does come with extra special features. Some might be tempted to refer to them as "door that does not shut all the way," "unusable mirrors," "fuel light that constantly blinks on and off" and a "blind spot the size of a hippopotamus," but I like to think of them as "fresh air rippling through my hair," "an odd form of neck stretching/exercising gear," "built in twinkly lights," and "an excuse for any poor driving decisions that I make."

My favorite feature, however, is the flashing yellow light correlating with a dramatic fuel gauge drop, that warns me in capital letters that I am low on fuel. And best of all, it does so spontaneously, regardless of the actual level of my tank. This results in a moment of panic, until I realize that no no, I just filled up 15 miles ago, and while the tanker does guzzle gas, not even it can guzzle that fast.

When that light flashes, it flashes to warn me that something is wrong, or will go wrong soon in the future. But the flashing, in this case, is merely symptomatic of something else that is wrong in the car. The fuel level may or may not be low. That is not the real issue. The electronics in the truck are the issue. The flashing lights signal a deeper problem than just fuel level.

It struck me tonight, driving home, how true this is of our lives as well. Often times small things cause us to blow up, loose control, run away, hide from a situation or person, or retreat into ourselves. Yet, often times, neither the small things nor our immediate reaction to them is the root problem at hand. Rather, they are symptomatic of a deeper issue, resonating on a heart and soul level.

The best doctors treat the illness, not just the symptoms. They do not prescribe cough drops for tuberculosis, merely because the patient complains of a persistent cough. They do not hand out tissues to a patient with AIDS, simply because they complain of a cold that will not go away.

We too could stand to learn from this lesson: until the roots of our issues are laid bare, we are merely passing out cough drops and tissues or buying gasoline every 15 miles. But far too often, we are content to merely treat the symptoms (sadness, self-hatred, apathy, futility, arrogance, anger, to name a few).

Is it messy to search for the roots? Absolutely. Is it complicated? Certainly. Does it require outside help (a trained mechanic in the case of my father's truck; a counselor or mentor in other situations)? Please, dear Lord, I do not want to see myself under that hood. Yes. Is it painful to prod and dig until the root is laid bare? Most definitely. But, in the end, addressing the root of our issues is the only way by which we are able to deal, to process, to heal, to be made whole.

It is far easier to remain "fine." It is far better to answer the great Physician "Yes, I want to be healed and I am willing to do whatever it takes."