visiting the path

Something happened today that put me in a tailspin. It hurt. It kicked me in the ribs. It removed any chance of concentration from the moments afterward. It also showed me that I have, indeed, grown, learned, moved forward. With no idea how I was feeling, my first impulse was to talk to Jesus -- literally. Walking to the prayer path on the grounds of the church where I work, I talked to myself first, determining what my feelings were, and asking myself why each feeling came to mind. I listened to the responses as they came, even managing to dismiss one or two. "No, that's not really the reason I'm feeling this way. Try again." By the time I rested my head on Jesus's knee, I was able to identify just what I felt, what didn't feel right. I hurt. Bad. And I knew that it was only marginally related to the event that had transpired. What really hurt was deep down, far in the recesses of my heart, where I was bleeding. As I leaned on the statue, I prayed a deeply heartfelt prayer: I complained, I cried, I stomped my feet and said it wasn't fair, or right, or anything I wanted to deal with. But mostly I begged for help: "Hold me. Help me. Hear me. Love me." Turning to see the steeple of the church, I cried out, "This is my home! You are my God!"

Lately I've been asking the Lord to open my heart, to open me; I can see it happening when I close my eyes. I've been asking Mary to unravel the tangle of memories, fears, and pain inside. I've been asking, I guess, for clarity and vision. All of that praying on the path today,  -- where the sun didn't quite reach me, so the light breeze sliced my skin slightly -- stung me, yet comforted me. Lately in my asking, I've found that I feel more real, more honest in my words, my thanks, my pleas, more vulnerable. This relationship is deepening, becoming more comfortable and comforting. I stood there, tears running down my cheeks, still hurting, but keeping in mind things that my pastor, my therapist, my husband, my brother, my dearest friends have all told me -- about who I am, who they see. Most of all, I had in my mind, along with the hurt that doesn't just disappear with prayer (for me, just yet, anyway), the words of God, the glimpses He gives me of who I am, and who I am to be. I said the Lord's Prayer and walked back to the office and my work.

A couple of hours later, washing the dinner dishes, I realized I am now in a different place. Allowing myself to feel, to identify myself in the feelings, to pray and to cry brought with it the gift of passing through the pain, rather than holding it. The wound is still there, but no longer bleeding or as raw. Laughter with a friend at work this afternoon helped (in my estimation that 'laughter as medicine' thing is spot on!), as did sharing with key people. What made me see I was new? T-shirts. As I washed the dishes, I found myself wondering about, designing, requesting, utilizing T-shirts for an area of my work. I laughed right out loud, grateful for the epiphany. God is so very good, when we get out of His way, open the door, and invite Him in.

Isaiah 41:13