The human soul is a multiplicitous thing. We are not but one dimension of ourselves but rather, we are a jewel faceted with the sides of all of our life experiences. We live through things that make us grow, and that version of us forges on. It grows. It becomes. It changes.
And then there is the thing of tragedy and injury. It is without fail that tragedy or hurt falls upon every single life - to varying degrees. And by varying degrees, I mean that it could be an extremity of circumstances or the level and depth of pain felt by an individual.
It always happens. To everyone.
I will not pretend that there are not those who have lives that have an enviable amount of predictability that allows them to bounce back a little easier. There are those who manage to almost float through the whole measure of their breaths with a way that seems to be avoidant of anything catastrophic. There are those lives. Mine is not one of them. Yours may not be either. Let's ignite the fragrance that is this path of pain and trial.
Sometimes, just as in the physical realm, there are things that just sliced through a little too deep or that slammed into our spiritual bones a little (or a lot) too hard. When this happens, the version of us that traveled our story up to that point gets stunted. It gets halted right there to a state of terminal. The thing, whatever it was, injured us so severely that theversion of us that lived up to that moment cannot continue any longer.
The curious thing is that the part of us that continues on, does just that. There are cases where the burden is too crushing and the psychological effects completely prevent the soul and the body and the mind from going any further. Let us elaborate on those who are, by God's grace, able to continue.
The injured version of us - it is unwell to the point of a spiritual vegetative state. No brain function. The heart is broken. We have to lay it to rest. We have to actually, consciously allow it to breathe its last and collapse into the arms of everything that is to come and rest in ever peace.
If we do not, we, effectively, bend down and raise this sickly version and carry it across our backs. We take it with us. We call it baggage. We call it scars. We call it "old ghosts". And we lumber on encumbered with the dead weight of a story that isn't well. If we accumulate a number of these and do this thing of the throwing over the shoulder, the weight just gets heavier - the life more burdened.
Sometimes these old ghosts of us are smaller - sneaky almost. They hide in the crevices of things we didn't realize were important to our hearts, and then they jump out with vicious surprise. Sometimes these can be sort of superficial, so the laying them to rest is not hard - even if you have to do it a number of times.
Sometimes they are those jagged, vibrant threads woven straight through the center. They are who we are. We are the sum...of them. They run deep and all the way across. These are the ones that are the hardest. These are the ones that hurt. These are the ones that deserve our homage and then our memorial of them - for they are the heaviest. So so heavy.
It is no secret that I have these old versions of me that draped across my shoulders for a long, long time. It is no secret that I have held service for a few. They have been laid to rest. I do not forget about them. I remember - always. But they do not burden me anymore. I have stood toe to toe with the enemy himself and exiled from my spirit the servant of his that caused me pain.
There are just so many.
A lot of work to do.
Tonight I visited the memory of two different times that my spirit was made to be damaged. I chose to take the me of now and tell her - the me of then, that I am bigger and stronger now and I will not let that person hurt her any more - that I am now there to stand in the way and that the me of now is strong enough to send the attacker away knowing that I am impenetrable. To try to attack is futility at its finest. The she of then will never have to be afraid again. I will protect her now - forever.
So tonight there is a pierce in my chest and tears that burn my eyes as I grieve the me that hurt so bad - that she ever had to hurt like that and be so afraid. But I smile at how proud I am of her that she managed to get us that far. It's just that it's my turn now. It's my turn to travel this life - to finish the story. To find the other versions of me that are crippled at different points in my history.
I'll find them all. With God's help, I'll find them all. With Him, all things are possible. With His shield I am invincible.
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