RUST IN PIECES,……..

Posted: December 16, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

the magic and power of journals,……what’s the big deal, right? They are only words……aren’t they?

There are so many common terms I have heard concerning  journaling. Therapy being at the top of the list. It’s funny to me how, we as humans, have a natural desire to get what is inside of us,…out. (i’ll not pursue the details!!! lol you’re welcome)

Perhaps much like a splinter and the pain and infection which it brings,…our bodies eject it,…in due time.

Perhaps our minds desire is to do this same kind of “ejecting.” I remember as a child when my father would try to remove a splinter from my finger…I would yank my hand back and cry, asking a question, while in the same moment, making a statement…..”is it going to hurt it’s going to hurt!?!?!?”

We desire to be free of the pain, but there is the “knowing and awareness” of the pain which somehow defends our “desire” to keep and defend the bringer of the pain. Where does this battle come from?

I suffered from many childhood traumas,….molestation being the most damaging, as it encompasses so many different feelings and emotions,…..in almost every area of the rest of our lives,…..two trusted friends of my family were the ones who fed off of my soul, though the damage done to my body. I don’t think, looking back, that my mind would allow me to “journal” as I would be not only keeping the memories alive,…but also giving them an all new, and more powerful strength…….which I could not deal with…for I didn’t know how to confront these demons…

The memories slept,……like a splinter deep inside of me,…their infection poisoning my life daily. The years passed by…

My relationships could never be complete, due to this sickness which the infection has spawned. I carried the sickness in me,…and it continued to “molest” everything about my life…….I wasn’t complete…

As cancer consumes it “victims”,…my demons whispered,…and laughed while they did so.

Rust, once began,…continues to rust. Uninhibited, rust will turn a strong, heavy and solid piece of steel,…into a pile of dust…the whispering and the laughter continued. It’s just a matter of time. The end is near from birth,…but with the continual damage which can occur from being molested, with no hope for freedom, or for an escape,…the end comes to find us. This it does with vicious intent. Driven. Mercilessly, yet as horrifying as this may sound, to me,…thankfully. I wanted the pain and madness to stop. I needed for it to stop.

“Is it going to hurt it’s going to hurt!”…The end, holds the promise of comfort. Comfort, and peace. No more whispering. No more laughter. I envied the demons. For they seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their sleep,…this was obvious, or evident, if only to myself, because I always heard them. They talked quietly in their sleep,…and laughed. Alive and well as they rested, and this they did,…in peace.

In peace. And rest. I had neither…I grew more weary every day. I hated them, and I hated me that I could do nothing to destroy them.

The pain of my life had grown so strong, that I no longer felt it. Sadly, I felt nothing else as well. Nothing. Including what was to be my own life. This is the point in which one knows that it is finally time to rest. This type of rest is one which I had to choose to bring myself. My own hands had the power to induce sleep. The sleep which I so badly needed. I also knew that along with my longed for, and much needed sleep,…I would also be bringing on the demise of the demons which lived inside of me. Maybe I could win twice?

There is a mysterious something inside of us that drives us to want to say some something to someone when we know that we will be sleeping soon. If we do this speaking in just a few words,…it is seen as a note. If we say what feel that we have to say, or want to say, in many words,…then this is a journal. These distinctions, it seems, are made due to the slightest variances.

Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep…

I can’t speak for anyone else who brings their own sleep,…but for myself, along with the written words left behind, there are also words spoken to the one who is the supposed creator of where we may be going…words not necessarily spoken through hope,…but simply spoken. like the lyrics from a Beatles song,…”you say goodbye, i say hello.”

The time was here. This would be the day. My last day. In the words spoken to the holder of tomorrow, having been said last evening, was my way of saying, “If you are really there,…I guess I’ll see you soon.”

The day passed, much as any other. Bedtime was approaching. The afternoon came, and minutes passed…the afternoon went.

Time for my only attempt at journal writing was almost at hand. My hand. My hands.

Then, just before dusk, I saw a slight motion outside of my front window. This was odd in itself, as there had never been before. I then, opening the door, came face to face to face with a complete stranger. She held herself as if she were just about to knock, although slightly unsure of herself. I had never seen her before in this small town in which I lived. She was very pretty as well, thus more noticeable, especially to a man. But, even then. So who was she? And why was she here now? On my front porch?

In her hands, she calmly held,…a journal……….

Speaking with a nervousness, which was perfectly blended with a confidence, which gave her an aura unlike anything I had ever before seen,…she sweetly and gently said,…”God told me to bring you this.” Raising her journal to my surprisingly outreaching hands as she spoke.

For what seemed like an eternity, yet merely a split second, I stared at her gift, then back up to her. To her face. To her eyes. What I saw in them was,…….I blinked, looking deeper…………what I thought that I saw in them,……………was love.

We then made rather awkward small talk,…and in doing so, I discovered what I already knew. She had already said what she came to say. Then, she simply said goodbye, and went her way. I watched as she pulled out of my drive, onto the road. I still watched as she then drove away. And I continued to watch until her car was completely out of sight, and over the top of the hill. Even then, I stared at where she had been only moments before.

This whole time, I was aware of my fingers moving slowly across the covers of her journal. I felt a warmth through it. I felt a warmth inside of me. I,…felt. For the first time since I didn’t know when. I felt. Alive. I just stood and savored this new feeling. As I did so, I listened. I listened, very closely. The whispering’s were gone. There was no more laughter. I, instead, heard the faintest,…of cries. I heard,….fear.

I sat warmly on my couch,…with this stranger’s precious gift in my hands, I opened it. I then began to read.

It said, “IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD, AND THE WORD WAS WITH GOD,…AND THE WORD WAS GOD,…HE WAS WITH GOD IN THE BEGINNING”…

The New Testament exists because of journal writing…individuals wrote down their true and deep inner thoughts,…pertaining to, and about God, a God who we can not prove exists…

Because of the words in this strangers journal, written by other strangers,…and then,…given to me…I learned what true Godly FORGIVENESS really is…

And in the reading of the words, and learning from all of what was written in this journal,…I was then, and only then, able to see more than just words on paper…I found what I firmly believe to be truth. in believing it to be truth, I practiced what I found. What I accepted. Through placing my faith in the Jesus who the journal was written about…I was able to give forgiveness,…that He gave me…

I found compassion that I have never known. Before or since……a compassion which is not human. It is “otherworldly”…it, I believe, is Godly…

I truly gave this Godly forgiveness towards those who molested me. Did I do this in person. No. Did I need to? No. Did doing this, forgiving, free them? I have no idea, nor is it my business. Do I have any desire to speak with them? Or tell them what they did to me for so many years of my life? What they took from in their sickness, their selfishness, and their sin?

No. No I don’t. I have absolutely no need or desire to. Period. But,…what does giving Godly forgiveness do? Does it free us? Truly free us?

In the exact second that I forgave the individuals who molested me, and beyond incredibly, I did so with true compassion, sincere and pure compassion towards and for them,…the very real demons inside of me left me.

These demons went away from me, in a way in which I can only, and quite literally describe, by honestly saying that I physically (and spiritually) felt their (commanded by God, and thus mandatory) eviction from my life! This happened instantly! Eviction is the perfect word! The only word!

Many years have since passed, the demons are so long gone now. Gone from that place, deep within me, where they have, for far too long, existed. Unchallenged. Un-threatened. Comfortably. Peacefully. The whole while, slowly draining the life from my soul. The peace they had enjoyed, and thrived off of,…was stolen from me. The comfort which they had,…was meant for me. God has given much back to me. I now have comfort. I now have peace.

These demons have never even tried to return. I, because of the words, that human hands, had written in a journal, (or actually, a series of journals),…have been freed. Truly freed. Forever.

So, do I believe that words have much life changing power???

Facts are these,…whether God is real, or not,…the words that I read concerning Him and Jesus, and things of Faith,…..showed me something which I have “never in this world”, seen or heard before. Then,…in using my freewill, I made a choice,….and because of my choice,….I forgave them. Them? I forgave the “heinous child molesting bastards”…the very same ones who’s willful choices and actions had tore a hole in my soul for so, so, many years……..A hole which served as a doorway for the demons to enter through…a doorway to their new living room…………….

But now,..I forgave them. And I forgave them in the “exact and specific way” in which Jesus taught me to forgive them, as well as all others,……I forgave them for their sins,…just as Jesus Himself forgave and still forgives me for my sins,…..and always will continue to do so……..as will I…continue to forgive others

To truly “forgive”, and be “forgiven”, in a Godly way,…we “must” have faith,…………because of my faith,….I NOW HAVE FREEDOM,…I NOW HAVE LIFE,…AND PEACE,…….AND EVEN JOY, FROM TIME TO TIME,…………life is good……..

So,…..I agree,……….journals are beautiful things……all because of a bunch of little words,…written on paper,…….by human hands

As I skim over what I have just written here now,….I looked down at my hands,………the very same hands, which, in another time, another place, and another life,……in a seemingly hopeless, quest for peace,……and rest,………and sleep,……..were going to be used to write a suicide note.

Life can be funny, can’t it? And maybe,…God isn’t real either? But then again,…maybe He is,…………………

But that decision is entirely up to each and every one of us to make for our “self”………..

we all too often want God’s forgiveness for our “self”,…but,…then we do not want to give it to others.

at which point,…and because of our lack of forgiveness,….in our personal prison,…we still remain.

hell,….as in the here and now,….is a choice that we make for our “self”,……… somethin worth thinkin (prayin) about,………..if we choose, not to decide, we still have made, a choice…………

Have a great day!

 
 

 

 

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