It's been almost five years. And when I look back, when I take in the mountain peaks I've scaled and the valleys in which I've wept, I see what became my saving grace: The healing power of Story. One of my favorite fiction authors, Charles Martin, penned these words in his latest novel:
"Story is the bandage of the broken. Sutures of the shattered. The tapestry upon which we write our lives. Upon which we lay the bodies of the dying and the about-to-come-to-life. And if it's honest, true, hiding nothing, revealing all, then it is a raging river and those who ride it find they have something to give--that they are not yet empty" (excerpt from Unwritten, by Charles Martin).
My soul screams out a resounding, "Amen!" to these beautiful, poetically accurate words.
In my darkest moments, I have been sewn back together by Story. I have laid the bodies of the dying upon the canvas, and I have been swept away by a raging river that will not let me rest upon the shore for long. So here I am, crawling back into the rage, opening the wounds that fester deep, and allowing Story to find me hiding nothing once again.
I recently snuck away from life for two weeks with my sister, finding a somewhat rocky peace in respite from this chaos I call mine. In those empty spaces, I read a book that I think will become a signpost, a shift in direction, in my life. Anatomy of the Soul, by Curt Thompson, took a spotlight and exposed the dank alleys of my soul I have both knowingly and unknowingly kept secret for a long, long time.
Emotion has never been my forte. Oh, I feel deeply. But I never learned how to channel the tsunami, so early in my life, I assume, I developed coping mechanisms to divert and avoid the torrent. They worked for a time, but Emotion is a beast that will not be contained. You choose not to let Him out and He will create His own way. His way can look like damaged relationships, fear and avoidance of intimacy, a few extra pounds here or there that add up to a whole lot more, other health problems, addictions, and on and on and on. Over the years, He has forged His own paths out of me, leaving scars that will not heal slowly.
It's time I face Him head on, embrace and accept the truth He heralds. Expose the shame and fear that have hijacked my life for so long. And find healing from the only One who "searched me and knows me" (Psalm 139:1). He, the One who searched those deep spots I've avoided and covered over, and yet knows me. He knows me in the deepest, most intimate way possible. And there is no shame, no condemnation in being known by Him. Yes, there is freedom in being known, and I want to find that place with Him.
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