Reading my Book

courage, Faith, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability
2014-11-05 15.49.47

Believing in me, inside out

Years ago, I imagined the most phenomenal breakthrough of breakthroughs to free myself from memories of trauma. I didn’t tell too many people because I realized they would wonder  “Why in the world does she think that way?”

I believe some people, knowing I put a whole lot of thought into this solution,  realized how serious I was…probably were sad for me that I would go to such extremes. Some avoided me.

Some, most likely reacted to the honesty of my revelation of trauma and saw me in a different light. Perhaps, even found me courageous for making it through. Maybe they treasured that dim little strip of brightness they saw in me not always overshadowed by the dark recollections of pain.

My idea, a medical procedure, brain surgery to identify and extract the section that stored traumatic memories, the ones that overshadowed, blocked out anything good.

The memories that would catch fire and destroy good days with the match strike of some unintentional trigger.

Essentially,  a lobotomy of the chunk of brain storing memories that kept me focused on what couldn’t be, of memories that spoke so loudly of my lack, my struggle to move towards enough…contented and deserving of good, of confident days.

I haven’t thought of my memory removing procedure in years. My memories are me, they are in every chapter of my book. The tragedy, dysfunction, and fearful pieces of my story are the scripture of my book.

My memories are for good, for declaration of authentic  “Grace of God saved me”  moments!

My memories are the words, lines, chapters in my book. Honest and open, drawing in the reader of my book.

Writing my book?

No,  not yet. But closer to trying. To feeling capable and worthy.

Right now, I’m  Reading my Book.

I’m really glad nobody tore any  of the pages out.

I can rest. The Lord has been so good to me, saved me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling. Psalm 116:  7-8

 

 

 

 

 

 

need to know

Faith, Uncategorized

Waiting for good

I can find my way through the house in the dark and recognize a coming home car sound as it pulls in the driveway. I am pretty good at being so eerily quiet that no one wakes up as I listen to their sleeping. I was a little girl who was skilled in planning for good, bad, violent,scary. I am still uneasy with the uncertainties of people because I need to plan for being safely hidden. Trivial things that I don’t know the outcome or what will be said or done sort of freak me out. This is the burden of a childhood of needing to know what would happen when daddy got home.

When I was a little girl, my daddy backed his car into the spot between two trees covered in purple wisteria. Sometimes he came inside and we had supper. Other times I waited for the sound of the creaky car door shutting and then I’d still myself for voices, questions, shouting, sometimes loud sounds of hands hitting my mama’s face, arms, back, kicking her back. I cowered, I  hid, I was ready because I knew he stayed in the car too long with his paper bag covered bottle and thoughts.

Today, I read Chapter 4 of Bonnie Gray’s Finding Spiritual Whitespace. I was one with Bonnie as she detailed the porch scene, violent and sad. I connected, I was moved. I thank God for her bravery and her healing.

I will continue to read and continue my journey into sharing the unspoken horrors, thereby freeing up space for Jesus and his peace.

I will unpack, uncover, explain the scars…the scars I have eluded to…and in the sharing, in the bold connecting I will tell others. Jesus is my redeemer…the one who needs the space occupied by horror. I will empty the bad, horrible,scary, stuff and I will free up space for peace, for spiritual whitespace.