Wounded

I have six candles lit in my living room. I am waiting for the dimness of dusk to gather me up, and settle me in. The further I delve into the silence of this still house that I’ve made my home – my own – I am aware that I am still a part of that long-time healing --- that long-time healing that steals the awareness of all that is good sometimes. Sometimes, it steals away the brevity of warmth that once surrounded this home. It was brief but whole.

I spent yesterday evening and this morning and afternoon with women who are incredibly talented, incredibly beautiful and tender, and soulful, and aware. I spent the evening and morning considering the broken places that people find themselves.

I am fortunate to have a good group of friends, who, when a women’s retreat was in the books, invited me. We met for dinner at the church hall, gathered in the pews of the church and shared laughter, songs and a story of courage that could have been made part of anyone’s life.

I was brought to tears a couple times – - - sometimes because I was feeling so very lost within myself, sometimes so driven with compassion, sometimes so hopeful and happy and full of life, and sometimes. . . I just didn’t know why.

This morning we talked about redemptive relationships - - - how God provides the opportunity to forgive, to be compassionate, to rejoice. We talked about authenticity.

I spoke a couple of times. The first was to tell the majority of women that were gathered around me that I envied them. I envied that they were in marriages, raising their kids with a husband, coming home to a person who, regardless of how well you got along, knew you. As soon as the words left my mouth, I kind of laughed and said, “But I also know that marriage sucks sometimes.”

At another time I mentioned that I’ve kind of given up dating, mentioning that I might have a problem with “small talk” and that I tend to delve into the deep. That got a laugh too --- especially when my friend said, “You need to give the guy a chance to talk about the weather. . .”

As we all shared our stories - - - marriage, family relationships, kid angst, and especially our own struggles - - - I found that my heart, though hurt for the brokenness in the hearts of these wonderful women, became buoyant. I was not alone. And we were gathered together – in the name of God we were gathered together – and there is such great comfort in that.

As the sky dims, as the candles flicker, and as the music on my i-pod plays in the background (I just downloaded “Rocket Man” by Elton John which is one of very few songs that I always listen to for some reason), I want the darkness to come. I want the darkness to surround me so completely that the only things I see are the flickering candles.

Then I want to cry.

I want to cry and cry and cry and let all the tension from work, all the tension from being a single mom with mounds of laundry to fold and put away, all the tension from homesickness (yes, I’ve been here 13 years but I still miss home), and all the tension that comes from being companion-less, out. I want to let it out for a little while.

I want big bubbles of tears to roll down my cheeks, and I want to cry to the sky and beg for freedom from the pain in my heart. I want to feel the arms of all those I’ve loved and lost around me. I want the brokenness that I rediscovered over the past couple of days to hit me hard in the face, and cripple me for a few minutes.

Because if I continue to move without moving forward - - - spiritually, emotionally, mentally - - - I’m not going to get anywhere.

So tonight, I pray for darkness.