This...kind of changes everything.

 

Something happened...something good. 

Just as, in the writing world, they say that you write from scars, not bleeding wounds, I wanted to sit with this good, and rather big, thing for a bit. I wanted to live with it; to let it season, to see if it...lasts.

I started counseling recently (long overdue, I'm sure) and have not been sure what I think about it. The big thing didn't happen through anything the counselor said, but in talking to her, I heard myself say something that resonated like a bronze bell. It was something I have known, that saved my sanity six years ago, but I hadn't thought to apply it to one particular point of pain. 

In trying to describe my inner emotional state to people, in the wake of our son Michael's suicide, I have often used two metaphors.

I speak of being strongly compartmentalized; of how Kristie was here, speaking to you and going about daily life, while Michael's mom dealt with the awful, relentlessly practical details of after-death, and Michael's mommy was sheltered tenderly behind a closed door, huddled on the floor, wailing. We check in on her, and care for her very, very gently. Kristie is able to function because Michael's mom and his mommy were given space to experience their own parts of this awful reality. Once in a while, they all collide in an eruption of tears and raw pain, as they should. This has felt like the healthiest, most functional way for me to live with these conflicting realities. I mean...I have to go about daily life, and I'm not especially fond of melting down in a grieving puddle in public. By giving that lava-river of pain a private, separate place to exist, I've been able to carry on and do the rest.

I also say that some part of me, one-fourth of my mama-heart, has been pinned to the moment we heard the awful news of his death. That is a good descriptor...pinned. As I went about my day recently, I delved deeper into that idea and realized how very apt it is. Some part of my beating, bleeding heart has been impaled to that moment like a moth to a collector's board. This part of me has been spiked there, writhing, gasping for air, neither healing nor breaking free, for nearly six years. 

Two things occurred to me, and they have changed my inner world rather dramatically. Interestingly, the first major part of this shift came only twelve days after my most recent post; the one where I spoke of the relentless cost of not crying, and how I could, legitimately, break down and weep at any given time.

The past year has been especially hard and heavy. On the last day of January, last year, a memory surfaced, related to Michael's death, that leveled me. Emotionally, I was almost back to where I was in the weeks just after we got the news of his death. This emotional devastation brought on some health issues that plagued me for several months. While those physical symptoms eventually eased, the emotional weight continued to press me down and down and down. I wasn't depressed, really, but...crushed. I could apply all the logic and self-compassion to this memory, but the hard fact of it could not be swept away. It was like swallowing a shard of glass, and having it get stuck halfway down my throat, and finding there was nothing that could be done to shift it.

Just a week and a half after sharing that post, something changed. 

I spoke earlier about remembering something I knew. It was something my friend's husband told me- the life-ring he threw me- when I was agonizing over my mistakes as a parent, after Michael died. [Not that I blame myself for his death- we all make mistakes as parents, because we're fallible human beings. Those regrets just become blinding in the wake of a child's suicide!] When I shared this, this friend said, "I'm so glad God has mercy on our failures." Those words of hope were the first true light shined into a hard, dark place. Others had tried to help, but these were the words that helped. I have spoken often of how life-giving they were. They helped me find sanity in the unbearable reality of my loss. 

I never forgot those words, but, in the struggle of last year, I forgot to apply them to this, too.

They're just as true, and just as life-giving now as they were six years ago.

At my most recent counseling appointment, as I tried to explain why this helped, I had an epiphany. This understanding flashed through my mind, and I said:

"When God said he would carry my pain, he meant all of it!"

I heard myself say those words, and it truly felt as if the God of the universe was saying them straight into my brain and out of my mouth! 

It was a holy, healing, glory-filled, beautiful moment, and I think I'll never be quite the same. 

This was the vital thing that I had failed to understand.

While Michael's death, and every painful thing around it, is horribly true and there's no brushing away or softening or sweetening any part of it....I don't have to carry it alone!

This is not denial. This is not pretending it's not true. I will never, for a single moment of the rest of my life, be anything less than fully aware that my son is not alive, but (and this is one of those earth-shaking, Jesus-sized, holy "buts") ...the truth of it may be unavoidable, but the crushing, soul-sucking, awful weight of it...is not mine to carry!

It was the crushing, devastating weight of the pain that took me down last year.

I forgot, and I hope now that I see it, I will never forget again, that the weight of my suffering is not mine to carry. 

When God said he would carry my pain, he meant all of it. Truly.

"Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows..."Isaiah 53:4-5

"Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens." psalm 68:19

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Matthew 11:28

"You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?" Psalms 56:8

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18

~~~

This moment of clarity was absolutely revolutionary for me.

I also did not immediately run around telling everyone.

Why?

I've mentioned that I have a monthly cycle of emotional capacity, mental health and physical energy. It took me a year or two to figure this out, but it's proven true. The low point of all these facets of my life falls on the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth of every month. Michael died on the 24th of June, and we found out the next day. I did not decide that these days would be extra hard every month; they just were, and over time I noticed the pattern. Just as with all bell curves and pendulum swings and dives into deep water, where there is a low point, there is a corresponding high point. At the other end of my monthly swing, at my high point, I am much happier and energetic and able to accomplish more. 

The day this reality-altering light dawned on me was the tenth of April, firmly in the sweet spot of the "high" between my monthly lows. Because of my nearly six years of experience with this cycle, I wanted to see how this change would weather through the coming down-swing. 

My heart has been through too much to casually bank on an insight caught during a sparkling high-point.

I treasured my epiphany. I gazed at it in tingly wonder. I breathed grateful prayers to the God Who Sees Me. I sank into the rest of its truth and started to heal. But I still kept this beautiful card close to my chest.

A week or two later, I had a whole new, beautiful realization.

Remember Michael's mommy, in her tender, safe little room, clutching her head in her hands and wailing? I suddenly realized...she's not alone! All this time, with all the tender love and care, I've pictured her there alone. Not lonely or forgotten; always held with tender awareness, but just...alone in a loving, private space. The other day, I suddenly had a whole new picture, and even typing these words, my eyes well with wondering tears. I saw Jesus walk softly into that room, gather Michael's mommy tenderly onto his lap, and cradle her close to his heart. He doesn't shush her, but, with such precious compassion, he holds her close and warms her, and tears trickle down his own cheeks.

She is not alone.

The One who wept with Mary and Martha, even when he knew that in like five minutes, he'd have their beloved brother walking back out of that tomb...weeps with me, gently, and with such compassion. My wait will be longer than theirs was, before I see my beloved son, but while I'm waiting and hurting, my Jesus holds me close...and he weeps with me.

~~~~

Here I am, more than a month later, still in wide-eyed wonder at this beautiful, heart-rescuing gift of mercy. I have come through the next low in my patterned swing, and...I felt okay. I felt better than okay. On the morning of the twenty-fifth last month, I checked in with the state of my heart and I felt... light-hearted!!!  For nearly six years, even in moments of sweetest, most fully-celebrated joy, there was a background weight on my heart. I have not felt light-hearted, whimsical, playful or silly... for almost six years. I have fun clothes it would not have occurred to me to wear, because they're playful and whimsical, and that part of me felt...dead. But now...that whole part of me feels alive again! 

It's not even as if nothing hard has happened, to challenge this resurrected life in my heart. I recently went through a rough week, when I felt battered and bleeding by ways other people chose to handle problems with me. I was tied up in knots, unable to sleep at first. It was painful and hard. I was angry. I was very hurt. And still...that weight that had pressed me down for so long...was still gone.

That spike that pinned my suffering heart to that devastating moment at 6:30 PM on June 25th, 2018... is gone. My Jesus has taken every facet of the crushing devastation I carried...and he's holding it for me. The compassion of Jesus is different from how humans, even the best, most loving humans, try to help. He never once dismissed or diminished the reality of my pain and the reasons for it. He doesn't try to change how I feel or convince me to believe an alternate reality. He sees all of it, with the truest of eyes, comes alongside me and says, "I'd like to carry that for you. Will you let me?" And then he keeps walking alongside me, in compassionate togetherness, radiating the most tender love, as he carries all my heavy things. All of this is another facet of the comprehensive, beautiful love he wants to pour out on every one of us. It is there, for every person on earth, if we'll just open the door and invite him in.

He comes alongside us, with such tender strength and says, "Lay your heavy cares on me, let me carry them for you, because I love you." 

That's my personal paraphrase of 1 Peter 5:7, which says, "...casting all your care upon him, for he cares for you."  

(Yes, the apostle Peter wrote those words, but God prompted him to write them, because they're a truth that we need.)

As I have experienced recently, he actually meant what he said. He will do it! 

He's doing it for me.

And now, for the first time in nearly six years, I feel light-hearted.

I feel alive!

What Forgiveness is NOT

I have learned many things about forgiveness, and one of the most important is what forgiveness is not.

Forgiveness is a personal matter, concerned with how each of us chooses to handle the emotions we have surrounding an incident of hurt. It means freeing ourselves from the prison of bitterness. In the process, the other person might be freed from a solitary confinement we have created, but it is not about them. It concerns only our own hearts.

It is possible to forgive someone who will never understand what they’ve done, let alone apologize. It is possible to forgive someone who has died. If the wounding took place in childhood and the wounded person does not learn about forgiveness until they’re grown, sometimes the opportunity for restoration is forever gone. The opportunity to forgive, though, is never lost.

*Forgiveness does not need to involve the other person.

Some people have the damaging idea that to forgive means to give the offender complete, unbridled access into their life. This could not be more wrong!

One of the best contradictions of this I’ve heard:

“If someone embezzles from you, you may choose to forgive them. You do not let them handle your money!”

(I wish I knew where I’d heard that, so I could give due credit!)

*Forgiveness, especially for large, deep wounds, must include the setting of wise and careful boundaries for the future!

Creating a new, more safe and healthy future does not mean that you have not forgiven. To protect yourself from further harm is not “holding grudges.” It simply means that you have learned from a hard thing and are doing what is best for your heart’s future.

To forgive and completely forget is mostly God’s business.

For we humans, a better wisdom is often to take important lessons from hurt, in order to create a better future. As the old saying goes, “He who forgets the past is doomed to repeat it.”

If we have moved through the process of forgiving, the memory of the hurt may fade and lose its power over time. That’s good and can be a huge relief, but forgetting is not required for true forgiveness to take place. 

*Forgiveness does not require telling the offender they’ve been forgiven.

The decision to share that information much be considered very carefully, taking into consideration the many aspects of the relationship and whether that conversation would lead to a better place. In some cases, it can lead to good, healing conversations and a better, brighter future. I have also known people who expressed forgiveness and had the conversations explode in their faces. Be very thoughtful about telling someone you’ve forgiven them when there has been no prior conversation about the hurt between you. 

*Forgiving does not mean that what was done to us was somehow fine.

That is not what it means at all. It only means that we will no longer allow that hurt to hold power over us. We willingly set it aside, to free ourselves from its pain.


*Forgiveness does not mean glossing over the offense as if it never happened.

It is vital to our healing that we acknowledge the very real hurt that was done, and the wrongness of it. We need to acknowledge that our wounding is both real and justified.


*Forgiveness is not a moment in time.

The decision to forgive is a moment. The process of living out that decision is a journey.

*Forgiveness does not necessarily mean staying in that relationship.

There are offenses and circumstances so deep and wrong that a complete severing of the relationship is necessary. There comes a time when we must, for our own physical, emotional, mental or spiritual safety, cut an offender out of our lives completely. That decision is often very painful and hard, and may continue to be hard for many years. Ultimately, it is our job to protect ourselves from all forms of assault…and we have every right to do so.

People may be deeply hurt, offended, mystified or very angry when that door of relationship is  closed. That’s unfortunate and can be very hard to face, but it does not mean it is wrong to set that boundary. Whether or not explain what you are doing and why must be wisely considered.

I have had to do this once, and in that case it was the right thing to tell the other person what was happening and why. I wrote a letter, laying out clearly what was done, and that this deep breach of trust in the friendship left no room for a future. It was absolutely the right decision for my own well-being. It was also hard and painful, and remained painful for a long time. It still makes me sad, nearly twenty years later, but it was still the deeply right decision.

In other situations, it may be the best, wisest and safest thing to just close that door quietly and privately, and move on without a word. Neither way is right or wrong. Each situation must be handled in its own unique, best way.

One of the best analogies I've ever heard:

"Refusing to forgive is like drinking poison and waiting for the other guy to die."

In the end, holding onto hurt, resentment or bitterness does the most and deepest harm to our own hearts and minds. Refusing to forgive is like insisting on staying in a prison cell when the door is wide open and we are free to go. 

Even where the hurt is vast and profound, choosing the path to forgiveness is still the best possible healing journey for the sake of our own brighter futures. 

Jesus and Grief

Recently, in my weekly email, I wrote about the idea of women as bearers of Gods messages to His people. I loved what I found.

In the process of that research, as I was reading/thinking/writing about Jesus' having given Mary of Magdala a message to speak to His followers, I started to notice another facet of the situation. I saw it in the account given in the gospel of Mark, but wanted to double check my theory. I read through that same section in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John and also the first part of Acts, just to be sure.

Here is the thing that has been driving my eager search:

While Jesus rebuked his disciples for their hardness of heart, for not believing those He'd sent with news of His return to life, He never rebuked the disciples for their grief over his death!!

I have heard Bible teachers scorn Jesus' followers for huddling together in grief and despair, as if they really should have known better. We, with the benefit of hindsight and the whole New Testament at our fingertips could easily roll our eyes at their response. "Seriously. He told them, over and over, what was going to happen! They should have just believed Him! Sheesh!"

We've gotten it so wrong! Having walked the harrowing halls of tragic loss this past year, I have a whole new view of the situation. I have grown a deep compassion for those shocked, traumatized, devastated disciples. Of course they were huddled together behind locked doors, shaking and grieving! Of course they felt abandoned and completely at-sea.

They did not have the benefit of hindsight or a fistful of explanatory New Testament Scriptures to enlighten them. They had just seen the one they loved the most tortured and torn to pieces and brutally killed. The mob that screamed for Jesus to be crucified could very well have been out for the blood of His followers as well. They must have been terrified! And absolutely heartbroken.

Then, in came Mary, shaking and stumbling over her words, insisting that she'd just seen Jesus and spoken to Him. They brushed aside her claims. I imagine that some of them may even have been angry at her. Under intense emotional strain, people often revert to less-developed versions of themselves. Trauma does not tend to bring out the best in people. Everything in their cultural background, and in her own personal, pre-Jesus history, told them she had no right to speak and should not be believed. They refused to believe her. A few, including Peter, at least went to check out her story. In fact, it says Peter ran to see for himself.

Later, when Jesus himself suddenly appeared among them, behind those closed, locked doors, did He shame them for their shock and grief? No. He rebuked them for not believing any of the messengers He'd sent to tell them of His resurrection.

Mark 16:14 "...he rebuked them for their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they had not believed those who saw him after he had risen."

Each Gospel gives the account of Jesus' life, death and resurrection differently. Not that any is right and the others wrong. They were written by individuals who were more deeply impacted by one fact of their experiences or another, and told it from their own point of view.

-Matthew leaves out this first encounter, skipping to their final meeting on the mountain in Galilee.

-Mark says He rebuked their hardness of heart and unbelief.

-Luke tells how startled and frightened they were at his sudden appearance, how he questioned their troubled, doubtful hearts and then assured them of the truth of His identity and life.

-both Luke and John say that He greeted them with, "Peace be with you." John also tells what Luke did- that Jesus showed them the wounds of His crucifixion to assure them of his identity.

He never rebuked them for their traumatized far, and, so important to me just now,

He never rebuked them for their grief. <3 <3

In some circles, grief is shamed as weakness or a lack of faith. This is not biblical! The Bible does say, in 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 that we should not grieve as those who have no hope, but it never says that we should not grieve at all. The Bible does not urge this sort of forced, stoic, false "victory" over justified sadness. On the contrary, Jesus himself said, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Matthew 5:4

There is no shame in grief. There is no agenda to hurry through it. Grief, in Jesus' agenda, was met with compassion and the promise of comfort.

In the same way, He meets us today in our grief, with tender love and bottomless compassion.

*Where to find those accounts:
Matthew chapter 28, Mark chapter 16, Luke chapter 24, John chapters 20 & 21
 *Soon, I hope to have my website finished, with a handy link for subscribing to my weekly emails. In the meantime, if you're interested in joining my mailing list, you can write me at kristiewrites@yahoo.com and I will gladly add you. My weekly notes are generally light-hearted, random musings, with occasional bits of deeper thought.

I can't write it yet...

People have asked me to share what are good things to say to those who are grieving, and what are things better left unsaid.

I've tried.

I've tried four times.

I have not posted any of it.

Why?

The hurt has still been too raw and ready, and it has taken me to a very angry place. I don't get angry over most of the things that were said to me. What stokes my fire the most is the memory of words that have hurt our children and made this already agonizing road even more painful. Mama bear. She has a hard time letting go of hurt to her cubs.

 What have I learned?

I will write about those things someday. First, though, it is essential that I walk the road of forgiveness over all of those clumsy, thoughtless, well-intended, damaging, hurtful words. I wrote about this in my most recent post. I have not posted anything since because I am living the journey right now.

I am doing the hard work, prayerfully, sometimes reluctantly, but committed to pressing on.

I will not be able to write in a healthy, hopeful, helpful way about the words that hurt until I have excavated the buried pain and resentment in my own heart and let it go.

For now, I'll continue to share the journey toward forgiveness.

And someday, when I can do it without fire shooting from my fingertips, I will write about the words that were spoken to us in our hardest days.

Lord, I forgive....help my unforgiving heart

"Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!"
Mark 9:24 NKJV

These words give me such comfort and such hope. They tell me that it is truly okay to come to God with what scraps I have; to speak to Him from where I truly am.

It is not only okay, He invites us, calls to us, longs for us to come running to him in the middle of our confusion and mess.

"Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."  Hebrews 4:16 NIV

Jesus wants us to come straight to him in our greatest weakness and deepest need.

This is where I am.

I wrote before about my need to forgive. (Blocking the Peace- Sept. 17, 2019)
This is real and soul-deep. These are some of the greatest wounds my heart has ever endured.

At least...that is how it feels to me.

What is it that I have been clutching to my chest, refusing to let go?

Blame.

That is the naked, ugly truth.

Holding onto hurt and refusing to forgive means that I hold blame to people for hurt to myself or to my loved ones.  Here's the thing: Whether these people are truly at fault (and some of them are) or whether my heart and mind have laid blame where it is not really justified...the need to forgive is the same.

Forgiving means that I will surrender my toxic emotions that are tied to each situation. It means that I will relinquish the "right" of resentment.

Whether or not my hard feelings are justified does not actually matter. Either way, I must let go of my hurt and anger. I must hand it all over to God and allow him to wash my heart clear and set my mind free. I need to give up to Him my ticket for endless re-runs of the incidents that caused hurt.

So, how am I doing with that?

Well...I have made a start. I have made a small baby step of beginning.

I have looked at each name on my list of "People I need to forgive." I have recalled why each name is on that list, and I have prayed for the grace to forgive.

I paraphrased that verse in the book of Mark to fit my own deep resistance and need.

"Oh Lord. I need you. Please help me. I choose to forgive. Lord, please help my unforgiving heart."

After many months of refusing to even discuss with God the wounds festering in my heart; after weeks of giving frowning side-eye to this list on my table...I heaved the first reluctant sigh of surrender. I took the first small, pained step on the road to healing.

No fireworks burst in the sky. No choirs sang or trumpets sounded (none that I could hear, anyway). But I know that my loving Father wrapped His arms around me and held me close as I did this first, small, hard thing. After I prayed, I felt the first, tiny, quiet easing of this tight know of hurt.

It's a start.

Blocking the Peace

"And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts..." Colossians 3:15b

Having been in church since before I was born, these words have mushed into a blur; all run together into one word. letthepeaceofChristruleinyourhearts... Having heard them times beyond counting, they had almost ceased to have meaning to me...until today.

I have been feeling for a while as if there's a thick curtain between God and me. I've resurrected my practice of daily devotional and Bible reading and prayer, but it feels...effortful. It is a meaningful time, and I have been touched, moved and learned important things, but my spirit feels sort of stodgy. Recently, I have been praying about this, asking God to show me what roadblock I have put up.

A feeling of distance from God is never caused by Him pulling back. He is unchanging, and His love is poured out in never-ending, changeless bounty. If I feel far from God, or cut off from Him, it is always because I have moved away or allowed something to come between us. But what is it this time?

The light began to dawn last night, as I talked to our daughter on the phone. I think the feeling of broken communion may be tied directly to a sticky note on our dining room table.

The note signifies a move in the right direction, but it also represents the sticking-place in my walk with God. The note is a short list of names, and it is titled, "People I need to forgive."

Thankfully, because of God's deep, heart-deep, decades-long work in my life, the list does not extend beyond last year. I have been on a long journey of forgiveness, starting about thirty years ago. I have learned that forgiveness comes in layers, as a long process over time. I have learned to forgive, by God's grace, in the exact moment I am being hurt; to forgive instantly rather than carrying around the offense like a trophy of my victimhood.

I have spoken boldly on the topic of forgiveness, and urged others to walk right into those deep waters, because I know the incredible healing and freedom that bloom on the other shore.

And yet, I have a list of names on my table, of people I have not forgiven.

There is a common thread to this list. It is comprised of a couple of people who have a fairly short path of influence toward the suicide of our son, people who said thoughtless hurtful things to me in the wake of his death, and people who made this already-agonizing year even harder for Lee or our other three kids. Mama Bear struggles to forgive hurt to her cubs.

God, in His infinite, gentle mercy, did not address my need to forgive for long months after Michael died. I think it was probably eight or nine months before He started, ever-so-gently, nudging the idea of forgiveness. I knew the hurts that lay behind that door, but I felt that unleashing all that wounded rage might tear my fragile self to pieces. Despite God's loving nudges, I kept that door firmly, emphatically locked, barred, bolted and nailed shut.

The first, most tiny of baby steps that I have taken forward was to write this list on a sticky note, and to acknowledge the need to forgive. I made that step, and there I stopped.

Given my decades of experience on this topic, I have no illusions over the process. I know that I can't just hurry by with a quick, "Yeah, I forgive them." For true freedom and healing to take place, I know that I need to sit still and let those incidents out one by one, honestly facing the pain and hurt and deep betrayal that are bound up with them. Before I can let go of those heavy wounds, I have to feel them, at least for a moment.

I know that the moment will be brief, if I then turn and release the people and incidents into God's hands, but I have been avoiding even that short time of feeling the pain. I'm just tired of bearing hurt and sadness. It gets really, really old.

I also know, though, that I will never move forward into healing, into peace, into many things, until I let go of these hurts and my rights of resentment.

This is why the peace of Christ is not ruling in my heart. It can't, because I have filled that space with hurt and anger and resentment. If I want to move back into God's peace, I have to clean house. I have to relinquish my "right" to hold onto those offenses and surrender them to God's much-better justice and wisdom. I need to move from my sticky-note list to the actual work of forgiveness.

The broader picture and beautiful benefits of this are spelled out in the rest of the verse I quoted above.

Colossians 3:14-15 "And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful."

- I am not acting in love by holding onto these hurts, no matter how deeply justified my hurt may be.
- It is love that creates a commerce of harmony between hearts. It is love that heals. I am not acting in love by holding stubbornly to this list. God's love is all around me, poured out to me like Niagara in flood, but I am letting it lie on the floor, not taking it up, because I am holding other things in my heart. His love heals, and makes possible the love that flows between hearts.
- Letting the peace of Christ...I used to hear that like, "May the peace..." as if it were a benedictory wish from the author to readers. Now I see that in that one small word lies a wealth of choice, determination and opportunity. I have to choose to allow the peace of Jesus Christ to operate in my heart through the avenue of forgiveness. My willingness is the key that will open the door to His peace.
- And be thankful. My eyes need to move from the hurts of the past to the face of Jesus. My heart will rest in His peace when I fill my thoughts with gratitude, rather than rehashing or clinging to past hurt.

These hurts are big, and beyond my strength. I cannot, in my own abilities, do the heavy work of rooting them up and moving them out. I just have to be willing to look at them, and then let go of them. Once I do that, God will do the heavy lifting.

Sometimes, the process is quick. Sometimes, it is a layered work that takes place over time.

I see now that I will not move out of this stuck, clotted place until I let this process begin.

One of the best quotes I've ever heard is: "Refusing to forgive is like drinking poison and waiting for the other guy to die." It is so true. Holding onto hurt and resentment, nurturing them and clutching them close...it only hurts me. It keeps me from really wonderful things that God wants to do in my heart and my life.

So, this is me, preparing to do the hard and scary thing; preparing to tear off the locks and start letting the big things out of their closet. And you know what? I'm pretty sure that God is already sitting in that moment, with a heart full of tender love, ready to meet me there. He will not leave me to face these hard things alone. He will hold me close through it all.