My heart hurts. My body hurts. I'm exhausted. Still trying to get my head around what happened and why. I've lived it all out as best I can. Today, I made the next sacrifice I needed to make. One that will bring me closer to the One who loved me first...
and I hurt like hell. Just an expression. I've known hell and it's much worse. But the expression is good enough. I told God "I love you this much to give this one last thing away." And of course, I know it is not the last thing I will give away, but in this moment of spiritual cutting, it feels like the last thing, just as it feels like hell.
I think I told the truth well enough, but in that particular telling...of course, more is revealed. The precious gifts given and received must now be used for other purposes, yet I resist the change that had to be made, or the flower would surely die. So much sacrifice on both sides, yet to not do it, to hold back...would make it all so meaningless...one cannot really dive half-way off the board and suspend oneself in mid-air, hoping to stop what must happen from happening.
Such is the true nature of forgiveness. It is much like that Hebrew word, "hesed," meaning unconditional love. It is what I stive to be, to give. Obedience to the One Lord, Almighty and Eternal God...and unconditional love to His beautiful children.
For the moment, the pain is severe. This pruning, I would rather not do...I would perhaps prefer to live in the illusion. But being real is what I promised Him. And what I pledged my life to.
The words the priest presented to me are still so hard to digest. His images suited well how I felt inside. I think part of me understands...and part of me rebels it...to own it would require more grieving...more seeing the truth...more wondering just how strong I was so long ago...how much damage really had been done...and then, properly seeing it perhaps for the first time...giving it away for good...for God.
This spiritual cutting is something I never imagined on my journey with God. I suppose some part of me was naive enough to believe that a few Hail Marys and perhaps a spiritual book or two would have been enough work for me to become the healer I have begged God to make me...to use me for that work. But this work of true forgiveness is like a monstrous dragon before me...pointing out the thousands of transgressions committed against me...and those I have committed...and it seems like the Devil himself is in the midst of it all, picking and choosing which ones will make me feel the most guilty...guilty enough to give it all up and just quit trying.
But I am way beyond turning back now. This healing will continue until the day I die. I hold on to my sins as if they were precious pearls, that losing them might mean losing my fingers or my will to live at all. And then I have to ask, is that how I feed myself? On being unforgiving of others and of myself? Do I think I can avoid the pain of letting go? Can I enter into love without feeling it sting me like alcohol on a cut? Do I have the courage to love someone who can and will love me back?
Only in forgiveness is this possible. My history, my path, will make a delicious story if it is ever told rightly...and I am not certain I have that much courage to do it...and how God was part of it...every step of the way. I would tell it if I thought the telling could save a life. Save one who might love enough to change the world. Oh so heroic am I! Even to me, it sounds like foolishness!
I document the struggle as I am able, because I am able. That's about it. I wish I could be more clear, but all I can offer is authenticity. This is how one person feels...trying to let go of sin...and reach into the abyss for forgiveness.
Is God there? Will He hold my hand? How far must I fall before He catches me? How long does the pain last?
I have watched young children die. They shake...and its scary...I see the pain in the letting go of life, wondering how much they are aware that they have some place to go...that I know they shall be resurrected in a new form somewhere...fresh and free of the cancer that wounded them here...I will never forget their faces, their struggle...or their love.
Such is a spiritual death to those things that no longer serve me. Those things that separate me from God. The clinging to life that will die anyway is so very hard to release.
And it begins and ends in forgiveness. Soon I will take a cup of tea and sit in my prayer room...and cry. Perhaps feel a little sorry for myself, because I don't want to give up my sins. I wonder what will fill that empty space. It will be a dangerous time, the emptying part, because "you-know-who" will be watching. He'll try again to convince me that I will always be alone...and misunderstood...and whatever else He knows I still fear.
I suppose I am all too dramatic for many people, but if my crazy writing can convince one person to let go of one 'favorite' sin...for good...then perhaps it is time not wasted.
Yet it must also be told that being noble is not that important as it is for me to let go of the sin...the ones I commit...and the ones committed against me. And then...to only let God's love fill the space. It is tricky to do this, but while I feel a bit abandoned, I must also admit God has not left me alone.
It is all about seeing the truth...and the beauty...and saying yes.
Oh my heavens...I'm going to hit publish. I hope it serves someone besides me.
All my love,
Cindy
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