Thursday, May 26, 2011

Walking with Broken Feet

I think for me, for most of my life I've walked around with feet broken, lame. It's not that I didn't have any sense of direction. My brokenness led me to other paths, paths I would not have taken if my feet were healthy.

My youth, as you may know, was full of wounding moments, but how does one keep walking even though it hurts? I kept moving, kept damaging but I kept moving and this morning, as I listened to the morning birds and feel the breeze again't my face I realized that for years I must have hidden that pain. Where can I hide aches such as these without feeling them too much? And I remember how when I used to go jogging, I hated carrying around with a fanny pack and such so I'd put all my belongings under my feet, the place where I'd feel it less.

The trees sway wild as I recall how life moved on, I walked, jogged, ran on through this life with things underneath me. I look up, feeling, God must be here with me as I decipher the mystery of how I kept going. My feet, tired and weary from stepping on spiky inner torment have recently been swelling and I said maybe too much salt, or tendonitis, gout? Maybe, past hurt, wanting to come out the way it was pushed in? How can I walk closer to God if my feet can't take the sting any longer?


Yes Cindy, I am still picturing them, thinking of them, moving underneath me in the darkness beneath my feet. My pain like these earthworms hidden underground, making a life for themselves. Sometimes, when it rains they're forced out, exposed but back in they go and all is as if they didn't exist.

But they do, underneath my feet. Poking holes, making tunnels but this heart has no room for them anymore. The swell of my feet say so.

In my mind, God reminds me of the scene in The Passion of The Christ when the Romans are hammering the nails in His feet, breaking bone and separating tendons, shredding ligaments and He cries out to the Lord. Like a child who falls and bleeds, who cries out to his mommy or daddy, Jesus cried out to God in His human pain, knowing The One and Only who can heal Him. But I didn't do that. I never cried out to The Lord. I never whispered Yahweh when I was struck with pain. I kept moving, without Him, adding more to it, making it harder to walk, jog especially run.

And of course it is said that time heals things, but it heals with scars and handicaps. We bury, hide and walk on pain like shards of glass and for what? To say we did? To show everyone how tough we are? When I lay down at night, I don't think about how strong I am that I was able to walk on fire and burn the soles of my feet. I don't boast that I am super human, push my chest out and roar.

I cry.

I grow weak in the face of what I've had to walk on and for years, after burying pain underneath me, I don't even remember why the melancholy.

Swelling feet and messages in swaying trees and as my coffee grows cold I realize I need to get up and begin a new day. Even in a whisper I can cry out to my Father, even in the breeze I can know that I was never meant to walk with this pain, to do this all alone. It's time to dig out what I once buried and hand it over to The One who knows how to truly take it away.

The thought of my pain, my homelessness, is bitter poison.
I think of it constantly, and my spirit is depressed.
Yet hope returns when I remember this one thing:
The LORD's unfailing love and mercy still continue,
Fresh as the morning, as sure as the sunrise.
The LORD is all I have, and so in him I put my hope.
The LORD is good to everyone who trusts in him,
So it is best for us to wait in patience—to wait for him to save us—
And it is best to learn this patience in our youth.
When we suffer, we should sit alone in silent patience;
We should bow in submission, for there may still be hope.
Though beaten and insulted, we should accept it all.
The Lord is merciful and will not reject us forever.
He may bring us sorrow, but his love for us is sure and strong.
He takes no pleasure in causing us grief or pain.
The Lord knows when our spirits are crushed in prison;
He knows when we are denied the rights he gave us;
When justice is perverted in court, he knows.
The will of the Lord alone is always carried out.
Good and evil alike take place at his command.
Why should we ever complain when we are punished for our sin?
Let us examine our ways and turn back to the LORD.
Let us open our hearts to God in heaven and pray
—Lamentations 3:19-41

God bless!

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