Eclectic Waters

Archive for April, 2009

So, I’ve been writing my autobiography, page by page. So far I’ve been able to keep my goal of 5 pages a week. This last week, I wrote one of the more difficult segments. While the actual experience may not have been exactly as I have written it to be, the voyage from Portugal to Barbados is the place where I felt myself break all ties to a land, a home on land, and to accepting my life, as is. The writing of this proved to be a challenge because I had never articulated these deep things of my heart…

I drove to see Diana, my counselor, and was nervous.

Once seated before her, I say, I think it’s important for me to read this section.

I read it and am cast back – and realize that this is still the story I am living in.

Diana prays, God please meet Deanne in the cave and bring light

In my mind, I see the cave and myself sitting in the darkness. I am a child, afraid, knees curled into my chest.

Jesus comes and turns on the light and I see the identity I have given myself as well as the reasons why and the story to which I have handed myself over to – and Jesus turns on the light and I see the emptiness of all these words, this story I have spun and I see my clenched hands clinging to the lies. I am afraid to let go. I am afraid to move out of the cave, it is all I know.

The dizzying brightness of life outside of this framework is scary and new and I’m not sure how to function in it.

I see myself as a young girl, now that the clutter of my framing and choices are removed. I sit here as a young girl, hurt and afraid. My self created masks now removed, and I am afraid to turn and look at Jesus

He looks at me in love

“Come home.”

“Come home.”

The images of the prodigal son returning home play through my mind. He is walking over the last hill, and rehearsing what he will tell His father. When looking up, he sees his father running towards him.

His Father is weeping, My son! My son!

The son moves forward slowly, ashamed. This is the father he spit at through his choices. His Father embraces him, holding him close to his chest.

“Come home Deanne. Come home.”

Jesus arms are waiting but I am frozen in fear.

I pray, I don’t know how to reach for you or how to let you hold me God.

I have told a part of my story that I have never told before and I am aware of my vulnerability and the fear from which I operate.

Can we go this deep?

Can you free me from this as well?

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This happened Saturday and I am amazed at how bringing things into the light helps heal them – I can’t describe all the details but am incredibly blessed that God meets me in the caves of my hurt and fear to bring me close to Him.