Hello there…my heart has been tugging off and on to get back here.
To explore the corridors of my thoughts, examine the patterns in the twisting walls, and wonder at the brushstrokes of my oft-tortured psyche.
And, most of all, to ponder whether I can really keep beginning anew after so many fits of molding sand only to have it crumble between my hapless fingers…
To find something to be fortified with.
And I find this post among many others….nearly a year later.
All too quickly do I see the cry of my heart then remains the cry of my heart now…
It is strange and a bit sad to see how I am still so much in this mindset.
And yet…I recognize again how much He has sustained.
Yes, there has been pain, uncertainty, fear, sorrow.
A fair amount of stagnation and the clinging of the old demons’ claws.
Yet, He remains. And He allows me this chance to be a breathing soul still upon this earth.
And He keeps on growing me…
Though there are those areas in my being that honestly still wrench against it yet….
I still don’t know what to do with this space and, thereby me, though inklings are downloading I may share down the road.
For now, (re) read these words, if you will, and know that I have not forgotten to lift you in prayer, dear friends, even as I hope I can remain in yours…
Jan 28, 2021:
It’s been a long while since I really spoke of my hurt.
It occurred to me recently that many of you newer readers may not even know that much about it beyond snippets still given here and there.
A dig through the more distant reaches of my archives would enlighten, of course.
And I can make it more convenient by indicating that you may click here for perhaps the best rundown, if so inclined.
But, overall, there are reasons I resist touching too much on it.
I haven’t wanted to feel as though I am eliciting sympathy or sinking down into the past and staying there.
I also don’t want to dip into any unfair comparisons from past to present.
Insecurity has a way of painting everything in dark, foreboding shades.
What may, in fact, be unintentional on the part of a loved one now looks like the same heart-shattering experience as before when glimpsed through the lens of an oft-wounded soul.
Still, I am nothing if not honest here.
The fact is, though I speak often of “Be still and know that I am God”-something I am truly striving to live in the light of every day-there is a growing melancholy weighing on my heart at present.
A deep-seated sadness settling in that is stealing at my ability to rightly express it.
Depression has long been with me, mind you. We are certainly not strangers.
More than once, it nearly snuffed the life out of me, in fact.
Now, it is something that hovers in the background and makes itself known by turns.
Right now? It’s a “making itself known” season.
I fight to go to sleep with this heaviness these days, reawakening frequently, an unidentifiable fear cloaking me in the midslumber haze.
Where it is coming from, I can cast about a few ambiguous notions, but, where there are some aspects of my life to definitively point to as a source, I can’t necessarily call too much of it concrete.
Is it all rooted in my past, so littered as it is by abuse and abandonment?
Or is it my ever-present anxiety over signs that such pain, real or no, is or is about to revisit me?
Angry shouts do ring in my head long after they have ceased and have an unfortunate tendency to visit me in my dreams.
It’s quite the challenge to rest my soul in any “it is well” feeling, even when life is managing fairly pleasantly, let alone when it is not.
For there is the nearly constant question mark in my head:
“When’s the next time the wounding will come?”
“How will it come?”
And-“Will I be able to sustain myself following it?”
Now, there are days I can rightly shove this aside and recall to myself just Who my sustainer is.
Most days, in fact.
But, other days?
Ah, other days, I find myself forgetting.
Perhaps, it is the old recordings in my head getting louder, stating in dismissive tones how try as I might, I’m still just no good.
And I know that I know that that is most emphatically not true-not in God’s eyes!
But…circumstances make my hands slow to switch off the tape sometimes.
So…what do I do?
Dig myself further in one way or another.
Either into deeper wells of sorrow, cranking up that ugly noise and feeding upon the slow death of it.
Not a good thing!
Or…the better part-
I dig in deeper to prayer.
To His words-to me and for me.
The far superior well to spend my time in by far!
Full of Living Water ready for the drinking in.
Bread of Life to feed upon.
Brothers and sisters that come alongside and nourish you even further in encouraging words.
And, of course, The One who intimately knows sorrow to carry the burden of it beside me.
It doesn’t mean I don’t still feel what I feel.
There’s a funny little truth about hurt.
It does not disappear in a snap.
Painful memories are long and thoughts often remain reactionary.
Trust is a shaky rope bridge at best.
Time to heal is key and, even then, some scars are prominent.
But, in that gift that is time, wounds can be eased, joys resurrected, trust finds firmer feet, and life continues on…
With all its seasons of delight and grief, smooth planes and blessed bumps alike.
Not absent of hurt by any means.
But, perhaps, richer for it.
Whatever season you find yourself in, dear friends, may you find the well full of the riches of life in the Lord! Blessings and prayers! ❤