Be gracious unto me,
for I am in distress;
mine eye is wasted from grief;
my soul and my body also.
Psalm of David
For me, forgiveness and compassion are always linked: how do we hold people accountable for wrong doing and yet at the same time remain in touch with their humanity enough to believe in their capacity to be transformed?
He hath made everything beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.
We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.
Martin Luther King, Jr
Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light.
Healing hands: an image of hands in a non-dangerous position emitting the color patterns I see in my head when I look at someone. Such a pretty picture. I imagine those hands are the hands of God. I fantasize about the moment those Hands touch you: heart, soul and body are healed at once, in an instant.
These imaginings of mine might bear some truth. Perhaps two thousand years ago when Jesus healed someone, he lightened their hearts and souls as well. It is very possible that some are called to such healing even now. There is little we understand about the mysteries of God. What I know is the healing process that he has me walk is not so simple nor clean nor beautiful.
My knees have so many scars on them. I have had two knee surgeries, several altercations with bicycles and many instances involving trees, rocks and metal getting my blood on them. (It's a good thing I didn't grow up in a mystical part of the Universe because I probably would have inadvertently ended the existence the human race more than once.) My scars cover bloody, gaping wounds. They do the trick but they aren't beautiful. Parts of my skin are numb. I have to shave my left leg because any hair that grows where the nerve endings were severed causes me no end of discomfort. (I like shaving my legs anyway but it was a good reason to start!) My knees are not the same knees that learned to crawl nor are they the same knees that steadied the feet tottered across the grass in my grandparent's yard 25 years ago. They are changed.
Like my knees, my soul has met with some accidents. There have been scrapes and bruises, big gaping cuts that I had taped over so no one could see and if you look closely, a fairly ragged tear down the middle. Unlike my knees, these cuts haven't scarred over. No matter how much I tried to mind them, clean them and tuck them away so no one could see, they festered and refused to heal.
It happened faster than I wanted it to. But the moment came. It was right. The bandages were ripped off: my soul exposed. Fresh air met with the weeping wounds.
Healing has begun and the pain is excruciating.
I knew it would be. But I didn't. I did not know I would feel the Universe tremble. I had no idea the lost memories would come and keep coming. My heart breaking into pieces several times a day really had not entered the imagination. Agony leaving no room for anyone else yet welcoming the entire world is also really weird. Plus, feeling free at last and fighting the urge to vomit several times a day doesn't do much for one's appetite or personality. The fear and courage combined makes a strange cup to drink.
Moments beset me in which I do not want to go on but I'm terrified to stop. Whatever is coming around that corner might be worse than all that I have experienced put together. This is where the secret comes in. Once you have tasted Truth, the lies are suddenly not good enough. The walls of the self made prison are torn away and you realize you don't have to go back.
It's like tasting Lemon Meringue pie made with freshly squeezed lemons, ladies and gentlemen. You wonder why you ever thought lemon meringue pie made from the box was even edible. (I'm guessing you're probably starting to question my use of winsome analogies. Haha.)
In all seriousness: healing doesn't come of it's own accord. You have to want it. You must have the courage. You will have to endure no answers, feebleness, faith, anger, being lost, without purpose, forgiveness, overflowing heart, truth, lies, love, agony... it all plays a part. It looks like nothing and smells like failure. You could swear that there is no sense here, no purpose.
This is where I keep grasping at faith.
Someday, my eyes will see.
There will be a time when my soul will be whole again.
I might not be a swan but I will be Naomi.