Monday, September 10, 2007

Dearest God,

What is the value of holding onto something that destroys? Why is it that we hang tenaciously onto an idea, an attitude, a behavior or hurt that eats away at the soul's edge?

I read my stepson's recent church newsletter article entitled, "Held Hostage." He talks about being paralyzed by fear. He shared the example of a man overseas calling a grocery store about a bomb in an aisle. The man was trying to extort money. Employees were paralyzed in fear for over two hours until the police arrived.

Stephen makes the point that we are all paralyzed by fear or sin in our lives at some point. He mentions the solution: let go. Let go, release, sounds simple enough. It is the answer, of course. But to do so is to let go of something else. Our vulnerability, our insecurity. That doesn't feel quite as easy to do.

I have learned a great deal about myself by daily conversing with you. I have learned many truths about myself. I know the places of my sensitivity and insensitivity. I have had to face some harsh realities about myself, not an easy task. I have learned that I don't wear bitterness well. Hard lines form on my face and heart. My spirit can hardly speak above a whisper. It doesn't even have permission to speak during such moments.

And yet, do I learn? Do I really learn? And if so, why do I continue to repeat the same embittering attitudes and behaviors? When I stand before you, realizing the truth about myself, I am ashamed, sad because I know I have yet to conquer my own fears. I have not ultimately entrusted them into your hands. I lack courage and faith I suppose.

When I look into the mirror, I don't always like who I see. I want to see the soft lines of trust on my face. I want to see an upturned smile rather than a frown staring back at me. I want to see eyes lifted toward heaven rather than eyes, dark and dull. I want to see the sweetness of Jesus on my face.

More and more I understand the words of St. Paul when he talked about a thorn in the flesh. I have my own. Sometimes it gouges me deeply in the side. I wince and bitterness forms. Just like that. I abhor bitterness. It robs me of all that is beautiful within.

I do not want bitterness to rule my life, to be the leading proponent that captures my soul. Feelings, attitudes, decisions can be slanted, stilted, soured by bitterness. Some day no beauty will exist. It will have dissolved throughout time. And then what is there left to offer God?

Turn me
inside out.
Heal me
from the
inside out.
Take hold
of my flesh,
that part
that will not let go;
take it,
calm and soothe it
please.
Make it new.
In your hands
all things
can be made new.
Make me new
or by your will
take the old
rotting flesh
and whisper
grace to it
I pray.

Love, Andrea