Gates

 

  “Open up, ancient gates! Open up ancient doors, and let the King of glory enter. Who is the King of glory? The Lord of Heaven’s armies—He is the King of glory.”  Interlude    Ps 24:9-10

 

  “Interlude” in the NLT Bible translation replaces, “Selah.” It’s the Hebrew word for pause, reflect, to meditate on. It’s taking the time to have God’s word filter into our hearts. It’s embracing a moment of peace and stillness where worldly distractions have no place. It defines when it’s time to stop reading or listening to scriptures for a moment to give what we heard or read the opportunity to sink in.

  It’s a Selah day today, a rest day. I might paint later. I might not.

  The weather has finally warmed up enough to make me want to, need to, get into the garden. There’s a lot to do outside. The pond needs cleaning and refilling before the winter, leaf filled water gets too smelly. The small, split rail fence I built to disguise a stack of bonfire wood has fallen over. There are many plants needing last year’s dead growth cleared away. The grass needs cutting.

  It’s a different sort of rest, being outside and getting covered in dirt. It’s still too cold for bare feet. That’s the best. Feeling the warm earth and soft grass beneath my feet is one of my simplest pleasures. (I wear shoes when mowing the grass.)

  By the time I am done, there will likely be smears of dirt on my face. My nails will need scrubbing because I don’t like to wear garden gloves. I’ll likely be tired, too. It’s a good tired, a physical tired which is so different from equally exhausting mental and emotional work.

  Opening ancient gates is tiring especially when the metal has rusted and seized; when corroded and solid hinges groan and resist movement.

  Until you anoint them with oil.

  Selah.

  Yes, wait. Give the oil time to soften the rust, to break down the corrosion.

  I have decided to take another couple of weeks off work. Things are still up in the air because of the fire. A temporary location has been found but to be in the chaos required to set it up is more than I can take on at the moment.

  That’s okay.

  It gives me time to focus on stepping through the gates God has opened; the ones that have been shut for so long I forgot they were there. It gives me time to invite others to walk through gates of their own.

  The grass is greener over here.

  Selah.

  Stepping through the gate leaves barren and desolate wastelands behind.

  I love that God gives me the choice. He doesn’t force me to go. He doesn’t demand I paint or write. He doesn’t chain me to the table.

  He called me. So I came. (Smile. At least this time I did!)

  Selah.

  This is a different sort of compliancy. It holds no fear. It isn’t filled with the despairing alone/lonely aloneness that fed its need for existence. It isn’t there to keep the peace at all costs.

  This time compliancy is needed to make peace.

  A friend FB posted a photo of a pot full of seedlings. She forgot to label them so she asked, “Does anyone know what these are?”

  I responded with a smile emoji, “Seedlings that have yet to identify themselves.”

  Every seedling has a round, double leaf before the unique leaves that identify who they are begin to appear.

  I guess the old, outgrown version of compliancy looked like round leaves. The plant never had a chance to grow out of this beginning stage.

  Selah.

  I’ve learned a lot over the last several weeks; far more than I could ever sum up in words. The result is a deeper understanding and acceptance of my imperfect self.

  One of my early diagnoses was Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s a terrible label. It screams, “There’s something wrong with you!!” There’s been a movement towards naming it a Socialization Disorder which is a far better description. Not being taught how to properly cope with life creates a breakdown of personhood, never mind a whole whack of unhealthy and toxic behaviours which further compound the problems.

   When traumatic events are not addressed or are silenced, the piece of us who lived when it happened never gets to grow up. It’s why I still want Bear when life gets really tough. It’s why the closet door has to be closed before bed.

   I probably don’t fall under this diagnosis any more. I will probably continue my nightly routine of door closing as an expression of love, not because of fear. The last few weeks of letting Cricket finally share her story has unified the parts of me that were, basically, divorced from each other.

  God opened the gate to her, our, traumatic experiences because He knew I was ready to step through it. The border lines were opened; the guns protecting them were disarmed. God made peace between two countries, hers and mine.

  “He restoreth my soul.” Ps 23