Wounded.....Healing

 The episode with the deep wound on my leg has led to much introspective thinking.  It was forced on me by the neccessity of being still.  I do not go quietly into stillness...it is not my nature.  I am like my mother.....I am a busy person.  I've come to know that I like busy because it keeps me from thinking too much.

The wound on my leg fought me.  I tried everything to get the better of it and nothing worked.  Nothing made it better and I became torn between keeping it covered, letting air to it, cleaning it, moisturizing it with ointments of every nature.  It consumed me.

I finally sought out the help of a wound care specialist and after 2 weeks, it is finally on the mend.  I'm not there yet.  There is still much stillness in my future, but I am feeling optimistic about the outcome.

But

I have been thinking how much this injury is like injuries we suffer that DON'T show.  We try to manage them ourselves, we cover them up, we apply medicine of different kinds and we suffer alone and quietly.

My first appointment to treat my wound involved debriding the scab (that hurt.....a lot), no medication of note was applied, just a thick heavy wrap of some sort of cool wrapping material, cotton and finally an elastic bandage from my instep to my knee. Subsequent visits have been the same routine.

It occurs perhaps we have to heal other wounds in much the same manner.  We can't hide them behind a thickening scab, we have to keep knocking it off no matter how painful it is.  We have to get below and examine the nasty hurting part that refuses to heal.  And then we have to wrap it carefully in what we know will work.....all the while knowing, we will most likely have to do it over and over again.

But....if we are lucky and we persist....the wound becomes smaller and smaller with each application of care.  And eventually we will find it is gone leaving a little mark to remind us what we suffered and what we triumphed over.

Our hearts are the same.  It is my opinon that broken hearts are stronger when they heal because we have to do the work over and over again until those breaks become faint memories........and lessons.

It hurts to pick off a scab........it hurts and it feels good all at the same time.  It's like a punishment for carelessness.  Not being careful in our behavior or with our feelings and hearts.  But until we see below it and find what is festering there....those wounds will never heal.

And so, my treatment for wounded spirits will forever be this going forward:

Don't let the scab deter you....pick it off and see what lies beneath.

Apply cool bandages of God's love and care for you and realize that HE loves you always, no matter how broken you are.

Give yourself a little padding.....distance from hurtful things and people to keep you from bumping your sore spot where it requires your focus all the time.

And last....wrap yourself in the love of those who never fail you, who have your back, who want the best for you.....allow it to be constricting.....there are times we all need to be held together tightly in order to keep from flying apart.

And then...

Be Still

Be still and know that God has you and He loves you and He will not let anything prevail against you if you truly ask and believe in His absolute sovereignty over your life.

And finally....you will heal and then you can help others heal as well.

A Muddy Track

 Much is being said this week about the celebratory attitude of some over their huge accomplishments in making things better for the "common man".

You know who isn't celebrating?  The common man.  You know those people who are watching retirement funds shrink at an alarming rate, groceries go skyrocketing up and up, the inability to find products that they actually need in their every day "common" lives....like baby formula.  Those "common" people who are lucky enough to have jobs, are starting to see diminishing work due to supply chain issues, over reaching contol by those "celebrants" and they start to be uneasy about their future.  I'm not crazy about the term "fixed income" because really aren't most of us on a "fixed income" - even those with jobs still have to live within the confines of a budget.  But the celebrants don't.  They can have what they want, when they want it, where they want it and how they want it because the "common" man is out there sweating his life away to make sure there is money in the coffers of the "celebrants."

Our country is a muddy track right now and the "common" man is the only one slogging through while mud collects on his shoes and clothes, weighing him down, slowing him down....eventually he will tire...

And stop.

The "celebrants" tell you they are working hard for you.  But, their entitlement belies their empty words.  From their walled in residences and lofty perches in the seat of power, they look down on the "common" man and laugh.

They used to be careful how they said it........now they are emboldened and just speak their disgust in plain and disparaging words.  How many ways do they have to say it, Deplorable, Trumptards, Neo-Nazis, there is literally nothing to vile to describe a very large part of our country.  And they don't stop and they won't stop.

The whole celebration we are observing right now is evidence of their disconnect with humanity.  And while there are some who are wondering how they can be so oblivious to what is actually happening,  they really aren't.

What they are celebrating is the fact they have been able to do exactly what they have always intended on doing.  Driving America to its knees, making its' citizens fearful and timid, making us look to the seats of power for help instead of depending on ourselves.  Every time you see one of them with their big popping eyes, pointing fingers, clenched fists and angry faces preaching in front of backdrops designed to intimidate, there is another nail driven in the coffin of our country.

And so..........do you want to do a victory lap?  I sure don't.  I am just going to be content to still be in the race as long as I am allowed to be.  And I do realize that for some....admitting that voting from a position of hatred was likely the biggest mistake you have ever made and therefore, you must stick by your choice even as your own well being goes swirling down the toilet.  But, if you are really honest you have to know this guy, the big guy....was an abysmal mistake and failure.  And he is also merely the dancing grinning puppet on the strings of someone else who is calling all the shots.  Someone who has no love for our country.

Are you going to let this happen?

We often hear...........vote for change.  Well, yes please do.....vote to change this muddy track to a nice sandy loam with a hard base so that we can all take a victory lap.  And pray....always pray for discernment in your thinking and for the ability to see the big picture when making your decisions.  For truly God is still on his throne and we are still his children who He promises to love and care for.  If we start really putting him into the equation, maybe He will heed our cries.

When the Walls Came Tumbling Down

 Like almost everyone over the age of 21 I remember this day vividly.  It stuns me to think now that there are kids reaching the age of voting who truly don't give this a passing thought.  It's a page in history books that doesn't affect them today.  Except it isn't just a fact....it affects everything now.

The anniversary of this horror sends me into a depression reminiscent of the one I felt for days, and weeks, and months after these unthinkable events.  My husband would tell you that for a very long time, I cried everyday.  I didn't have to imagine the tragedy, there were unending visual representations of it everywhere.

That was an event that broke me.

It broke me and then rebuilt me.

That was the day that a deep abiding patriotism and love of country and my fellow Americans came shooting forth and it has not abated.  It lit a burning fire inside me that will never be quenched.  There will always be a flag flying on my home....I will always sing the National Anthem and I will always say the pledge of allegiance even if it is only to myself, a ritual I conduct in quiet along with the Lord's Prayer.  It sets the tone of the day for me.

I always loved America.....you could not live in a world with my Daddy if you didn't.  And so for a long time I loved it because Daddy demanded it of  me.  But my broken heart fell in love with my country and its people for my own reasons that day.

The lives lost, senselessly.  The lives given, bravely.  The coming together of  a majority of Americans with a common purpose.  To heal, to grieve, to honor and to protect.  We all felt the darkening foreboding skies of unlenting grief which seemed to never have a end..........but ended in a blaze of white hot anger.

And we acted and we moved as a country, as a people, united.

No one had to call us or draft us or coerce us.  We just did the work.

And we promised.......we would not forget.

But some have.  It is a harsh lesson, a dirty lesson, a cruel lesson and a painful one that some people have wanted to shield their children from.  I get it.  But if  you don't talk to your children and your grandchilren about everything about that day....you do them a disservice.  They deserve to know how it affected YOU.  You still have their ear, you can still bring that day into a lesson for them.  It might not matter now, but the day is coming when they will understand exactly the what, where, who, why and how of your personal interpretation of events on 9-11.

I do not forget.