A picture of me

This was originally posted as a note on Facebook, on  Monday, April 25, 2011.

Time to move my writing all to one place, huh? 

The realization took my breath away, literally stopping me in my tracks halfway to the breakfast table.

My girl and I had just gone round and round and round . . . she was crying, screaming, stomping and generally throwing a fit because she'd gotten something in her eye. I kept telling her I needed to take a look, touch her face, make sure she was okay. She calmed down, then the stinging returned and the jumping crying fit started over again. For nearly half an hour we were at it: me, trying to make sure she was not cut or injuring herself further, she, trying to rub her eye and relieve the pain.

Finally she'd cried it out, whatever it was, calmed down, and we were able to get on with making our scrambled eggs.

I finished cooking our meal and was bringing it to the table when I discovered, once again, that God has a great sense of humor. The realization that left me breathless was this: the screaming crying stomping fit I'd been trying to quell was a perfect picture of how I have acted when wounded, though the struggle is internal.

Often in my life, I find that when something hurts I call for help (through prayer), help comes (like me going to my daughter, my Savior comes to me), and I fight the help. I calm down long enough to allow Him to touch the hurting places, but only long enough for the pain to start again, then I start crying and throwing a fit (of sorts). WHY do I do that? Why do any of us do that?! We ask God to help us and when He shows up, we won't let Him touch our wound. It's madness

I'm going through a Bible study with some girls from church--it's on freedom in Christ--and we're tackling the topic of forgiveness. The emotional mess I've found myself in with my PPD has helped to open my eyes to old junk I was hanging on to, specifically--unforgiveness. That was another breathless realization. I honestly thought I'd dealt with some of the old hurts, but in reality I'd buried the pain under performance and a well-polished mask. Yuck. This was not a place I expected to go when I started this study. I was *hoping* for freedom from the depression. Fortunately for me, my Savior knows what I *truly* needed--to let go of past hurts through forgiveness--and He was faithful to lead me to it.

So as I ponder this truth, it brings me to another . . . the reason I haven't been able to sing. Of course, I still have the ability, such as it is, but the desire and real passion for music and praising God has been absent for almost a year. I haven't "felt" it but couldn't put my finger on it. It was like every time I went to lay down the offering something was holding me back, barring me from the altar.

“Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.” 

Mark 11:23-25

I had been asking for healing, but not truly believing it would come. My frustrated prayer that changed from "Help me!" to "Be Glorified!" let me see how I was scratching scars and keeping them open, raw, prone to infection. I was rubbing my wounds instead of inviting my Savior to come in and heal them, just like Rachael rubbed her eye when it hurt. Wow. I was carrying hurt around that was keeping me out of the throne room, away from the altar, like when you try to walk through a doorway holding a broom horizontally in front of you, it bars the way. Wow again.

So again I'm laying it down again , and will continue to do so. It's the only way I can re-focus my attention on what truly matters here: giving my Savior what He's asked of me.

Everything.