I have “Healing Begins” by Tenth Avenue North on repeat.
And it’ll be staying there for a while.
I had a couple good, long conversations with Liz and Kelsey last week. And it didn’t start out this way, but we basically discovered the incredibly deep reservoir of fear I’ve got. (I think I’ve been stockpiling and didn’t know it.)
I generally divide my life into before summer 2006 and after.
That summer was life-changing. Life-defining.
It shouldn’t have been, but it was.
I came out of it feeling like my heart had been through a meat shredder and having no idea how it was all going to fit together, swearing up and down that I would never let it happen again. At some point during the following school year I swore off marriage. And then I decided that that was unrealistic, but I didn’t think it was a wise idea to expect I’d be married, because, face it–God calls some of us to lifelong singleness. But I just kept the whole “I’m never getting married” mantra as my official, if inaccurate, position. My friends from high school decided I was the 21st century version of Beatrice, from Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, because we’ve got the same pessimistic outlook.
I kept my heart guarded after that summer. I still do. And I think that I thought all I had up was an eight-foot privacy fence, the gate of which swings open easily, but I must have forgotten I hired a stonemason to raise twenty feet stone walls up behind the fence.
And the thing that really stinks is the fact that I can’t figure out the difference between being careful with my heart, and being terrified for it.
I am tired of being afraid. Whether I know that’s what I am or not.
Which is why I have “Healing Begins” on repeat: