This Week

Most of us have heard the expression, I feel like I have been "put through the wringer." Most of us have probably even felt that way a time or two. After this week I am truly feeling the weight of that expression. I have been boldly honest, terrified, stone-faced, and shaken by uncontrollable sobbing. I have talked and talked and talked to person after person until the sound of my own voice makes me want to scream. I have sat in silence. Someone told me today that I am raw from all of the sharing and admitting. Tonight I saw that. Even a simple film that I know so well from my childhood days held scenes of hateful people griping at others and I found myself cringing. Perhaps raw is an understatement. I have felt utterly stripped of defenses and energy. I have stood tall in encouragement, and I have crumpled under the weight of words.
Right now I welcome the sound of the wind blowing the nearby trees. I close my eyes and relish the sound of the neighbor's wind chimes; the lack of voices. If I didn't fear all the dog piles people neglect to pick up behind my apartment, and the knowledge that complete exhaustion would set in and I would fall asleep, I would spread a blanket under the stars tonight, stare up at the heavens, and just pray. I don't even know that complete thoughts or words would come, but I do believe the Holy Spirit would carry my internal groaning right up to God's outstretched hands. There I visualize Him cupping his hands, drawing them to His ears, and listening as He understands every ounce of my pain. I imagine, if you will, a man's face that if He were to turn and look at me I would see echoing in His eyes the depths of all the heaviness my soul feels. Then I imagine those arms stretching out towards me as I close my eyes, and let go. I don't feel myself falling though, because I have been caught in a tender embrace. In that moment I am aware that any shame I have carried is for naught. All that shame has been a knife I have held to my own wrists. Gently He tells me to put it away. Gently He whispers, "Why?" I try to look away as a thought escapes my body, "I deserve this." He ever so softly turns my face back to His and says nothing out loud, but shakes His head as His eyes tell me, "No." I look into those eyes and see what I have always wanted to see. Yet, it's still hard for me to see it, to believe it. I see understanding, I see unconditional love, I see acceptance, I see tenderness, and I see compassion. I see a Father whose image has always been like one from a fairy tale. I see truth. I know sometimes I run from the truth, but tonight, I will sleep in its arms.