Truth Be Told

Truth be told, it's been an emotionally excruciating month. I really thought I was doing well in moving forward in my new life, and then a known sexual predator in a ministry position was treated with more compassion, forgiveness and respect than my own family by the same people who obliterated my life in Florida. Too many people, people I love, were hurt by this person whose sickness was ignored and kept hidden.

I've never been through a divorce, but I liken what happened to me, to us, to one. We gave up everything, left our home behind, lost most of our friends who felt the need to choose a side (not ours--not that we needed anyone to choose sides), lost our house, face some financial problems as result. I have serious difficulty not seeing everyone through the eyes of my wounded heart.

It's wearying to wonder each time something goes slightly wrong if we're going to end back up on the street (again, seen through my own wounds, not at all what reality is).

There's talk of grief counseling for us both, an idea to which I am not opposed.

So, that's the truth of the matter - where I am, how I feel, what I'm dealing with on a day to day basis.

Truth be told, it's nearly impossible to reconcile this burden of grief with the abundance of blessing that is rained down on me day by day. To have been removed so suddenly, we were certainly brought to a place where a soft landing and a warm embrace was entirely certain. To be privileged to serve God here with these people of enormous heart, great courage and unending kindness, while knowing the situation we were involved in before is splintering apart is a grace that I have still to begin to fathom. Provision, of a home, of support, of growing friendships, of place and stability is beyond what we dared hope or imagine.

That's also the truth of  the matter - where I am, how I feel, what I'm dealing with on a day to day basis.

So in the light of both these truths, I am making a conscious choice which one I am going to let fill me. It's going to involve some serious boundaries and protection for this bruised and wounded heart. It needs some time and distance and a great deal of gentle handling (and maybe some counseling even) before it's going to feel like my own again.

I'm embarking on a little project because while I know it is true that the joy of the Lord is my strength, I also believe that in light of continuing to keep my mind focused on all the many good things and gifts (and there are so many) that I need to make a constant and continual effort to focus on the good, and in the next year work actively to change my life for the better even in the smallest ways.

I'm not going to writing about the yukky stuff for a bit, until I need to dump it all out and stir it up again and pick out the treasures and dump the rest (a process which I see being repeated many times- read at your own risk. Also I won't pay readers a co-pay for this form of therapy). Instead, I have a new project, a happy project. In fact, it's The Happiness Project: Official site here and My Everyday Happies here,

 It begins to feel rather like being a gypsy..moving place to place to place to place. Each time I question whether to blog again. Maybe I should just keep a paper journal that no one else can see. Maybe my thoughts really aren't for the masses. Maybe they have no real use except to be used against me, to tear down my family, my life, my self image, my self worth. One thing I have learned and learned and learned again and am still learning, when I let people have my heart, it is beyond my control to keep it safe.

And like a child I throw up walls and close doors and pretend like this old heart just don't care what anyone thinks of it.

Only I do.
I really, really do.

I want to be heard and understood, listened to and accepted...it's what we all want.

But sometimes that demon rejection lurks behind every doorway..and I stand paralyzed, afraid to fully walk through lest he jumps out again and yells "FOOLED YOU!! You aren't good enough for this doorway -- OUT! OUT!"

And immediately every thought, every feeling, every shame from nine months ago becomes so near and so real that it threatens to swallow me up and leave me to drown in its guts forever.

So I stare at this page and wonder what it is that I really have to offer anyone, even myself, but I stubbornly refuse to let the thing I fear the most completely silence me lest even the rocks sing better than I.

Here we are. Again.

Trust Him. He knows what He's doing, and He'll keep doing it. 1 Peter 4:19

Moving Day

This blog, she's moving. Let me know if you want to follow me; it won't be far.
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PS--Stacey--this really is my new blog.