Tagged: guilt

Going In and Coming Out

As we head into the last day, how do I feel?

Partly, that words are not able to express where I am. A sense of needing to express it nevertheless. A huge sense of loss at the separating of the group. A warm sense from all the closeness. A strong sense of unexpected duty and call; and a real sense of anger and abandonment. I am very angry with some people.

I need to find some kind of therapeutic way in which to deal with that. I have no idea how to do that.

A sense of which things I use to protect myself from me, and of which things I must be mindful. A sense of incompleteness in the moving of my hands, of being a work in progress and probably, frustratingly, a sense of needing to wait. The time is not now for that work. But this time, this moment, this is my time, my kairos, and there is no going back from having set aside this opportunity – or from having taken it.

Who will I be? It seems very strange to be asking that.

I know I will be someone much more comfortable with uncertainty, but someone blessed and cursed with more certainty. I know I am someone who has a mission, a purpose, and this is a new concreteness. I don’t yet know how I will live that out, though I know I cannot afford to let go of it.

I believe I will be someone who is stronger and who is less alone; who is more aware of the blessings and gifts she is receiving, and who is more able to make use of them. Someone less isolated in my heart, though I may be increasingly isolated in my life. Someone who is very sad. Someone who feels shame, and needs to let go of the need to feel it.

I hope I will be someone who is free. I learned that freedom is a good thing; I need restriction and containment less than I thought I did. While I still value a framework, that is largely as protection, a wariness against the implosion of appropriate boundaries and values that can come with excess.

I am someone who is scarred, and not just scarred but also actively, currently wounded. I think I understand me a little better. I fear I also understand the task at hand a little better.

Someone who can pray better. Someone who is not afraid to be in that space of emptiness and two-way solitude with the God I find when I let myself be still inside.

Someone who wants and needs to be less afraid of myself; someone who recognises the responsibility I have to be myself; but also someone who is newly aware of why I’ve been hiding, of the damage I can cause and of the loneliness my hiding has made me feel.

I have found new peace within. That is what I feel. I fear losing it when I go back into the world, and I accept that it may be that my peace becomes something I see outside of me too.

I would like to share the peace, I would like to help, to make a difference. And I need to heal.

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When the Going Gets Tough

Oh boy but this was a tricky night. Facing shame, guilt, and sinfulness. Grief. And then there was the wake, when we went deeper and allowed ourselves to be more authentic, more vulnerable.

One thing I have learned: help is much easier to give than it is to ask for.

And I came to look at my scars. And they hurt still. And they are not healed over. Like the tree I encountered this afternoon, there may be regrowth, but restoration cannot be complete. But what is left is something new, scarred and in its scarring, memorable. Then I looked at the tree more deeply, and I saw its cracks and fissures, its quirks and its misdemeanours, the damage that has been done to it and the little worlds inside its spaces. And I was mindful of a door to a new world, wherein we see purity, light, and downright organic disorder. The path to God is not easy. God is not easy. Love is so very easy, but we do not allow ourselves to love freely.

And I thanked the tree for carrying the scar for me – it is a tree that has been part of my most intimate life over several years – and then I caught myself in an

“Oh”.

The tree carried my scar, marked my memories for me, and held me in its space. The tree allows me to see the love to which I am accountable.