When that new year ball dropped on December 31st, 2021 all of us were looking forward to a year full of new beginnings, resolutions, and hopeful memories in store.
I didn’t know that 2022 would be full of challenges, hardships, departures, and death.
Well I guess I half-expected it to be difficult, but not like I’ve experienced these last nine months.
From the span of nine months, I’ve had two family members pass away, friends walk out of my life, painful church transitions, family conflict, and broken relationships with formerly trustworthy people.
Let me explain…
This year so far, has been anything but healing.
When I think of healing, I tend to think of a wound that was gashed open. That wound is then tended to by applying medical treatment, including but not limited to, alcohol pads, antibiotic ointment, gauze, stitches, and bandaids.
A typical gashed wound will heal over time, but it requires necessary attention and reapplication of treatment in order to heal.
I can’t remember at the time of writing who told me this recently but they said “you need to tend to your emotional and mental wounds as much as your physical ones. It’s the same treatment protocol.”
That gave me a whole new perspective on healing that I haven’t seen before.
I began to do the hard work of sitting down again with trustworthy people and share my story/explain what I’ve gone through.
I began with asking questions about how I am to move forward with all of this on my plate.
“How am I supposed to heal from this?”
“Why did this happen?”
Questions that before, I just shoved down, deep inside my heart so no one had to look at them, because if they saw them they might not want to be around me anymore.
I’ve been told that I’m too much, too sensitive, too emotional, and too caring.
Those things tend to get me into trouble not because I am any of those things but simply because those things scare a lot of people away.
I’ve learned in this season of my life that many, many, people don’t want deep. They are comfortable with shallow. They’ve waded in life’s 3ft pool for so long, that when someone comes alone and asks them to come with them to the 8ft section, it’s too much for them. They don’t have the endurance, strength, or the time it takes to really bear your burdens along with their own.
So, I’ve begun to journey with people who have, not only the ability, but the time to help me heal.
This journey of healing sometimes doesn’t involve fully blossomed tulips and orchids. Sometimes this journey of healing looks like dead leaves on the ground, surrounded by gravel, nails, dirt, and gutters.
Sometimes the healing that you desperately need to go through is a deep cleaning of life’s wounds with some rubbing alcohol, gauze and stitching of the scars that others have given you.
When you begin this process it’s going to hurt at first.
Just like when we first learned to walk. It started with a crawl, then it slowly progressed to standing, and eventually walking.
I know for me, sometimes I feel like I’ve been knocked off my own two feet.
I find myself on the floor. Looking around to see if there’s anyone there to help me get back up, and yet in the midst of my mental playground there’s no one, but a still small voice. It’s as if all my accusers dissolved at the moment I made contact with the ground beneath me.
But that voice is there.
No matter how small the whisper, it always pierces the darkest hour.
It’s in those moments. When that still small voice, draws me near. In the drawing near to that voice, I find everything I need to move forward no matter the difficulties that may lie ahead.
I know I can heal because the Great Physician is here, and he hasn’t failed one surgery yet.
From eternity past, to eternity present…
I can trust that his hands, never shake.
His operations are 100% successful.
And I am here, yet again, ready for him to do the work that must be done.
I am ready to be healed whichever way he sees fit.
I am safe
I am home
I am loved