Quietness fills the room. It is dark outside, but the moonlight fills the room with a cool, serene glow. The fire crackles warmly, comfortingly, reminding me I am safe here.
“Are you ready to confront the rest of this?” He asks.
Safe in his arms, I nod, knowing He is not going to force me if I say no.
I see my mother again. She is holding me, walking the floor with me as I cry. I see myself nursing at her breast. But what should bring comfort brings one pain! My belly hurts! I cry but cannot be soothed. Although she tries to comfort, she becomes frustrated and angry with me. The more I cry, the more frustrated she becomes and the more I cry. Attempts to comfort always bring pain, fear and anger. My tiny heart learns to fear the comfort for all it brings with it. But the association between the pain and comfort brings a twisted association between pain and the sense of being loved. It is all twisted in my tiny heart.
Even as I see this I wonder why I do not feel that pain now.
“Because I am holding you and shielding You from it. “ He releases His arms from around me just slightly and enormous pain floods in: “Papa: Hold me! Don’t let me get lost in this!” He does. I cannot face this apart from Him. It is too strong for me and will overwhelm me.
I see myself again at her breast, beginning to reject her breast because of the pain of the colic. She tries to give me a bottle, but they are cold and of little comfort. I cannot receive comfort from her and the relationship is impaired from the start.
“Papa, what do I do? Ho do I change this? I forgive her! “But ‘tis not enough.
“This is not a product of sin, but of a deep wound” your heart. Let Me reform, remake that in you.”
A pang of fear stabs at me, but I cannot say no. I open my heart to him and see myself as that infant again.
This time is different though. I am in His arms, crying. He rocks me and puts one to His breast. I cannot understand this. But somehow my heart does. He feeds me filling a deep emptiness within me. My belly begins to hurt. He puts me over his shoulder, rubbing and patting my back. Laying my across His lap, He rubs my back until the pain is gone-the pain is gone! For the first time, it is gone! He draws me in to suckle again and I am filled, without pain.
He lifts me to His shoulder again and walks with me. His feet are silent across the sheepskin, padding ever so softly across the wood floor. He looks with me through the windows at the garden, the tree, the waterfall in the moonlight. I can hear His voice, but I do not understand what He says. My heart knows though, they are words of love.
He takes me back to sit with Him, nestled in His arms. “Let me heal you heart.” These words I understand.
He again takes His salve, on His fingertip. I am holding onto a finger of His other hand-I am so tiny in His arms! Tenderly He spreads the ointment or my tiny heart and belly. A tension flows out of me, a tension I have always known. I relax into His arms.
“Let me take the blanket from you. “I understand these words, but do not understand what He means until I look down and see a filthy, black blanket clutched in my tiny hands, covering me. I realize I have worn it for many years. I am reluctant to let it go, but the baby trusts this voice, the voice that has fed and warmed and taken the pain away. The blanket slips from my hands. From the corner of my eye I see Him toss it into the fire. In its place, He draws me closer and feeds me again, filling my emptiness, one never filled before. I am warm, safe and content.
I find I am confused too. I thought at this deepest place there must be deep sin, but instead there was hurt and fear.
“This thing formed in a place of trust. Little one.” He explains.” This has stood in the way ever since, poisoning all closeness.”
“Oh, Papa’ I repent for holding this! Please forgive me: Speak to my heart to be released to trust and receive for the first time! “ I am warm and safe in His arms.
part 5-->
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