i love my friends.
i just got a comment on the last blog that i'm gonna
post here, cause my gosh, it is jammed pack full of
it's in response to the 'hurt train' below, which makes
me smile as the hurt in that blog prolly wasn't what
my friend was thinking of when she commented here. she
knows some of my hurts, and i'm thinking this is aimed
at a certain big one i carry. and she's so so dead on
it fits the smaller one the below blog is about too,
of course, cause i think it fits all hurts.
but she's talkin' about the big ones here, guys.
and i know we all have some.....
so this is for all of us.
and pam.....i think you're beautiful. thank you for
So, imagine that you've been hurt. And your body or your emotions of the moment have healed, but you've kept that hurt in front of you so you can see it and remember it and know if it ever comes your way again. You carry it, like an armload of bricks, everywhere you go. Now and then, when you meet someone safe, you can put down the bricks and rest for a bit; but before you go on, you pick them up again. Your arms are so full of hurt that there's no way they can hold the love and the good things that might come your way -- the bricks always stand between you and the good stuff -- as well as the bad. My heart was hurt terribly when my son died. I carried that hurt like a huge splinter that stayed lodged right in my heart, where it festered and poisoned me; but I was afraid to remove it. I thought if I lost the hurt there would be a huge hole in my heart -- just the size of a little boy -- and I'd never be able to bear seeing the reason I was aching. At one terrible time, I wrote "don't rob me of my pain, it's all I have." We hold onto the hurt, because in some bizarre way it takes the place of whatever we have lost. We carry it as a memorial to our injury. Only when we put it down can the wound heal. My heart bears a scar, but it's a mark of the healing that has taken place since I laid down my pain and removed the festering splinter. It is hard to put the hurt away; but all that follows the courageous act is healing and growth.