I have been blog busted….. my Hidden little corner of the world has been discovered. So this post is for Kristen,DShan, Debby, Kevin, Landa, A -18 Straight Shooters
You know how when you are in bed at night and your leg creeps out from under the blankets and you hang it off the edge of the bed? If you are a chick, a menopausal chick or if you have ever been pregnant and or slept next to said person, you are very familiar. And… When you finally get comfortable, just the right amount of hot and cold, under the covers and on top of the covers, just the right amount of clothing removed in just the right places,the pillow in the perfect sleep position, the Chillow strategically placed behind your shoulder blades, leg hanging just right and that first wave of sleep comes over you. Finally. Rest. Bliss . And then it happens…
Your eyes fly open, Your leg flies up on the bed because the thought has just entered your mind, uninvited, that there might be something under the bed, gonna grab your leg and pull your half-naked flailing body under there and do what ever monsters under the bed do….
Dont lie… you know you have been there.
It was my one of my greatest desires to conquer the fear of having some undead thing grab my leg. I wanted to sleep free with my crunchy old lady foot hanging over the edge of the bed without fear of being accosted.
Symbolic. Metaphoric. Telling.
For some people, monsters really do exist. For some, what lurks in the hidden dark spaces is unspeakable and powerful and huge. It controls everything.
My Monsters were real and my fear was deep. That undead thing was my abuser, the abuse, the sin, the anger, the sadness, the excuses and the denial: the whole blob in one big boogey man mess, where I slept, where I ate, where I tried to be a Jesus girl. I carried it around with me everywhere I went. The undead thing was drawing nourishment from me to stay alive and I fed it. I fed it my heart and soul. I fed it my relationships, my time, my future. I fed it my tears, my fears and my un-forgiveness . It was especially fond of my un-forgiveness.
God, wanted me to forgive. Mat 6:14-15 (NIV) “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But, if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”
Those monsters did not get under my bed by accident. They were strategically placed there by me. I was comfortable with someone to blame, something to be the reason for my sin, something to wail over. I was not done being angry, or helpless and I certainly had no intention of extending grace to a monster. So I gently tucked it under my bed, where it would be safe. The monster who had taken my life, my childhood, my dreams, my every second of joy since I could remember. Was protected by me. Being a victim afforded me certain liberties….. and gave me the right to be as angry and awful as I wanted to be. I did not have to get close to anyone. I did not have to do the work to heal as long as I held on to the Monster.
Black or white. DO it or Don’t. And for a long time I didn’t.
It took me a long time to let go, grow up and grow in the Lord, stop making excuses, commit to change and to pick apart the pain enough to forgive the man behind that monster. Before I could do it, I had to deal with my own sin. When I was able to say” You don’t owe me any more debt“, IT was the single most freeing moment of my life and I would not have been able to say it at all were it not for the forgiving example of Jesus on a cross asking His Father to extend grace to me. I held in my hand the hammer that would strike the nails to crucify Him again or the grace that He had freely given me, both to do with as I chose. I wish I had chosen grace so much sooner than I did.
Some days I have to forgive over and over again.Some days I don’t think of it at all. I still don’t sleep with my foot off the bed but that’s because of the foot long centipede recently found here. And the cat. Shes a freak with claws who takes issue with my crunchy old lady feet.