I find I am grateful to sit down again and lean against His leg, resting my head on His knee. In this moment of quiet, I star into the fire, reflecting on that has been happening. The changes are huge in some ways, so hard to see in others.
I feel His hand lightly rest on my head, occasionally stroking my hair. I am reminded of the strength of His hands. They are so very very strong, yet never has He hurt me with those hands. Nor with His words either, I realize. He has corrected, rebuked, and it was painful, but the pain was in the truth of His words, not in hurtful words. Truly, even though He could have, He has never hurt me, never even turned His face from me, though there was every reason for Him to do so.
“Share your heart with Me.” He is not demanding, but gentle in His request from me.
Funny how these words have always seemed to be a prelude to His correction. I cannot resist His invitation though, and begin to pour out my hurts over a deep wound caused by His body. I am honest and hold nothing back. It was a terrible moment when I felt abandoned and alone. I desperately needed help and support and the body did not care for its own.
“It is time to come clean with me on this…” He says with a touch of firmness in His voice.
The hurt is welling up inside me and I cannot contain it further. “Papa! I thought I had forgiven. I really believed that I had. But it still hurts! I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. Was it alright that these things happened? You took care of me, of my family, provided all that we needed. You comforted me though it all. Does that make it all right what happened? Am I wrong to be hurt?” I have not said this to anyone before, the boldness scares me a bit, but honestly compels me now.
His answer comes slowly. “No, no it is not all right. This is not the way I desire my body to function. Your hurt is real hurt over real wounds.” He looks at me for a long moment. “Let Me heal you now.”
It takes me a long time to answer. “I want to, Papa. But I am afraid. If you take this from me, I fear I will be empty within. The emptiness is worse than the hurt.” I hang my head, ashamed at my fear.
“I will not leave you empty.” He reassures, His firm grip on my shoulders reminding me that He is there.
“Then, yes, Papa, please, please heal this ache in me. I glance up and see a tear on His cheek! I am surprised and do not quite understand.
He gently draws me close to Him, embracing me. As my head is pressed to His chest, I feel His tear on my cheek.
“Take it, and place it on your heart,” He tells me. I do as He bids. “Know that I am there with you even in your hurt.”
Suddenly I realize the hurt I am feeling is really an overwhelming sense of aloneness. I have felt alone and isolated even in the midst of His body. I glance out the windows into the garden and notice for the first time that it is empty. I am alone here. In the distance I see the shadows of people beyond the fence. For the first time I can recall, I do not want to be alone anymore.
“I am ready to stop being alone now,” I whisper.
“Soon, child, soon,” He tells me.
The ache in my heart remains though. I am not sure of what to say.
“Let Me into your hurt.” He whispers gently. “Let Me share that hurt with you. You do not have to be alone in this.”
I feel my walls finally break. I cry into His chest. As I weep, I feel His arms around me. He is with me. I can feel the trace of His tear on my cheek. For the first time I feel I am no longer alone.