4/2/2008

4/2/2008

Isn’t it funny how often the saddest, darkest moments in our lives are also numbing. How it seems that our bodies become so overwhelmed with emotion and thought that they, in a way, shut down? I suppose this is for a reason. I suppose this is for protection. In part I am thankful for this survival mechanism. In part, though- I hate it. I want to feel the pain in order to appreciate the peace. And I do feel it- just not like I think I should. Is it my hearts survival or my minds? I feel often that without this, I would be unable to focus in on more than just the space around me. I would struggle to perform and would fail to put one foot in front of the other.

Isn’t it sad how during trials, pleasing everyone else takes higher ground than healing ourselves? Instead of fighting for what may best protect us, fear gives in and we do what everyone else believes will be best. I do at least. When I get scared or overwhelmed, I feel like I am a statue and around me are the tourists, poking, touching, observing my life without permission. Packing my things and ushering them into their vehicles in attempt to save me from a world I am not ready to leave. People pulling pictures of walls, clothes out of drawers, dishes off shelves and I cant stop crying long enough to stop them. And then I am angry for weeks. Wanting them to know they crossed the line. If they hadn’t, would I have ever left? Are they intruding tourists or angels in disguise?

Isn’t it scary to think that your life, as you have lived for years changed and you missed it? You missed the defining moment between then and now. You missed when things changed, forgot how things were. You somehow misplaced what it was that made you happy and instead picked up what broke you. You lost who you were in a dark stairwell that led to the place you wanted to be. You left yourself there instead of continuing to where you knew you should be. Like a child who wonders from her parents in the store, to see the things she went their to see and then end up feeling terrified and lost when all you wanted was to see what excited you.

Isn’t it amazing how pain finds its way out of your pores, how we sweat it away without knowledge? Isn’t it refreshing? To one day feel as though your chest is cement, hardening, cracking even and without your knowledge of change, the air becomes light and your smile returns, your mind at ease. It is amazing how we process pain, change, fear, and don’t know we are even working through it all. We might think we have stored it away to be dealt with after work, after supper, tomorrow, next week when all along God is working on it for us. Isn’t that just amazing?