Caution: Contents may contain sharp edges

I planned to spend today’s therapy session chatting about my upcoming vacation, nothing too heavy or disruptive before I get on the plane.  It appears that God and my psyche had another plan.

For a few weeks I have been really out of sorts and feeling unable to get to the bottom of what is bugging. Short spells of crying interspersed with being rather edgy and having a short-fuse…but no real clear idea about what was stirring me up. I am prone to getting a little (or a lot) depressed this time of the year. Shorter days, holidays approaching, a little of this and of that.

I should have known. You would think that after about a million years in therapy, I would know that when this starts going on, some leftover splinter is working its way towards the surface. Maybe this would cause me to have some compassion for myself instead of the boring ‘what the fuck is your problem’ conversation. Maybe someday.

Sunday I went to my old Vineyard church for an amazing 90 minutes of worship.  I expected to go sit in the mercy pit and have a crying fit, pour out whatever was hurting to Jesus, leave washed clean.  Nope…no tears…not yet. I left feeling clear and uplifted, somehow knowing everything is unfolding exactly as it should be. Grace.  Monday morning I woke up mad and sad and like Sunday never happened.

This morning  (its now Friday for those of you who are keeping track) I woke up after having a devastating dream about my mother who has been dead now for 15 years.  After about a million years in therapy I do at least know better than to try and avoid a message like this (don’t think I wasn’t tempted). I talked to my therapist about the feelings of betrayal, grief and anger that were evoked in this dream and I cried for the entire 45 minutes.  Cried so much I felt sick. I didn’t do the ‘why this again?’ dance of avoidance, but just did my best to sit with it, let the Holy Spirit sit with me and minister to my heart. It was incredibly painful.

Here’s the deal though: when I woke up from this dream today, as I was saying a little prayer before I rolled out of bed, I knew that dream was a gift, and that is not just some spiritual chatter. I knew. I wasn’t sure what it meant and I didn’t know what was ahead, but I could feel it in my soul, the truth of this.

We forget to mention when we are talking about God’s mercy and goodness that, sometimes, it is sharp. Jesus speaks of coming with a sword and it is not all roses, sunshine and glory attacks. That splinter of grief and betrayal needed to come out of my heart. The pus of self-hatred, defensiveness and resentments needed to drain. I love that he is so relentless about our freedom that he will let us walk through some really hard things…including, yes…another trip around the mountain of healing from the past…to get us to where we want to be. Free.

As I am here tonight, resting up after a tough morning and a long day at work, I can feel the post-surgical spaciousness left in my heart. I’m off to Costa Rica on Sunday to see my sweetheart, more able to love and let love in. Feeling very grateful and glad that one is over.

See you when I get back.