Pattern

"For it was I, the Lord your God, who rescued you from the land of Egypt. Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it with good things." Psalm 81:10

  The ice berg Zentangle is complete. It was a mind stretching process, trying to come up with so many different patterns. I left some sections not filled in. The white spaces are expressions of gratitude. It's important to illustrate the healing the Lord has already achieved.

  

 The white spaces are also about hope. If so much can be changed, it's safe to rest in the understanding that more will come. Patience will prevail.

  I admit I'd like to know when this is going to happen...so much for patience...(smile.)

  The thing about change is it takes practice. It takes having safe people in your life to practice on! It takes having those same people cheering you on even when an attempt to put on the new fails. 

  It's not always easy. I think my biggest challenge is coming to understand that my instincts around an uncomfortable situation are right; that my red flags are to be trusted. 

  It's easier to take a flag down than to put one up.

  Am I afraid of being hurt? Now that's a good question. 

  Perhaps it might be better to say that I am slow to trust. Understandably so. 

  I got thinking about masks yesterday which actually ties into this. We all wear them don't we? Some wear masks of humanity to hide the monster beneath. Some wear monster masks because their humanity is incredibly vulnerable. 

  Ah, yes...the monsters. To be specific, the one in my closet. The one that everyone told me didn't exist. 

  He did, you know.

  I've grieved the lessons this first monster taught me because monsters are very, very real.

  God has restored much of what he and the others took but I've never thought about what was lost when others dismissed my childhood fears.

  Something happens when a child isn't believed. 

  Something far worse happens when a frightened child receives no comfort. 

  (There was a long pause after I wrote that last line...)

  The patterns which made up the identity God established in my soul at birth got blurred, got written over. New ones were written by the strength of shame and shadow.

  By the time my seventh birthday rolled around, I had Dysthymia. It's a form of chronic, low grade depression that wraps the heart, mind and soul in a blanket of fog. It created a mask I didn't even know I wore until being diagnosed in my forties.

  The diagnosis opened a door that had long been closed and with it, healing.

  Thank You, Lord, for giving me the strength to explore these painful events yet again. It sure takes a long time to unravel the complexities of deceptively simple patterns. More importantly, thank You for reinforcing my need to understand it wasn't all my fault. 

  The next pattern? I think it might have something to do with suppressed anger.