Over 12 hours yesterday 3 word pictures were impressed in my mind.
Process of healing
I feel God taking me by the hand and leading me to the next thing, the next pile of shit to sort through in my life. And I feel Him lead me right to the middle and sit down with me. Sometimes He pulls me down because I see what we are sitting in and I want to run. I feel Him with me, holding me, as He hands me item after item, letting me do whatever I need to. Hurl it out of sight (though it never actually leaves till I really deal with it) or hold it or hide it or cringe at or ignore it.
And He never leaves me, never scolds me, never punishes, but He lovingly pushes things into hands to remember and deal with them.
Sometimes we don’t make it through a pile when He leads me away to another one.
Yet that pile of stuff, part of my story, is waiting and when I’m ready He leads me back to it, repeating the process, holding me and letting me work through the process, whether it’s letting go, grieving, getting angry, feeling emotions, seeing myself, holding my little girl in gentleness and grace.
There is no rushing, no unloving pushing, no demands or punishing.
I’m living in a house alone.
In one scene I’m outside the house, there are a few houses in the distance and neighbor ‘kids’ or people running through my yard trying to get into my house. I try to yell at them but I can’t. I can’t talk, nothing comes out. The kids point and laugh at me, throwing object at me.
Then I’m in the house with a friend and we hear something. My friend says ‘someone is up there’. I go into a foyer type room and look up. There are many floors with balconies and doors into rooms. Something or someone is going into and out of the rooms, shreaking in delight. I can see them but not clearly.
Again I try to yell ‘Get down here!’ ‘Get out!’ but nothing comes out. I try again and again. Finally I get passed the fear and hear myself yelling.
I’m sitting in a lake of shame created over 25 years. I want to be free. I want to feel free. But I don’t want to be seen and I know I must. I must tell and speak of details and let my heart, who I was, be seen.
Raw. Not pretty. Seen.
I’m scared of reactions and of myself. The shame is yelling excuses at me. I’m feeling… trapped a little. This is You but everything in me is yelling to stop.
‘Willing trembling heart’ is exactly what I’m feeling.
I’m willing – but I’m scared. Hold me Papa.”