In a Name

   "O Lord, I have come to you for protection; don't let me be disgraced. Save me, for You do what is right." Psalm 31:1

  There's a pot of leek and potato soup simmering away on the stove. A tiny chest freezer is a new addition to the household. It's great to have a place to store autumn's harvest without needing to sterilize jars. The soup base will nestle in nicely beside the containers of chili and roasted tomatoes already in there. 

  I found comfort in cooking this morning. There's something reassuring in the rhythms of peeling and chopping. It's grounding and leaves time for the mind to mull over recent events. 

  Once again I experienced a verbal onslaught in response to enforcing a boundary. The foul names tossed carelessly in my direction have struck like an arrow to my heart. Logically, I know their anger was due to the influence of drugs and alcohol but nevertheless, it's been hard to shake.

  Part of me believes what they said is true. 

  Why?

  Experience has taught me I have no right to enforce a boundary. Experience has taught me I had none or that it was my fault when a boundary was crossed. Lord, I don't know how many times I need to write this. It's starting to feel like a broken record!

  Yah...a broken record that keeps skipping and playing the same part over and over and over again. I need a penny to weigh down the needle arm so it stops this nonsense. (A well known hack for anyone who ever owned a record player.)

  Or is the record skipping because the scratch is so deep? Is it beyond repair?

  Lord, You are so good...A friend called to see how I was doing after yesterday's situation. During the course of our conversation I shared that growing a thick skin is the last thing I want to do. A thick skin is another name for numbing. It can't be done selectively. It numbs all emotions without discretion. 

  It's what I did to survive in my previous life and the Lord has helped me lose that black, suffocating armor. I don't want to put it back on ever again because not only does it shut down the heart, it shuts down the ability to sense the presence of the Holy Spirit. It is life lived in the shadowlands of a vacuum and very, very lonely.

  So...a thick skin...

  Hmm...being punished for feelings...yet another scratch in the record. 

  This isn't about being called a name at all, is it my Lord? It's about the shame and guilt I feel for being upset about it. It's about feeling broken and "not normal" for being sad or hurt (and I am going to add in feeling anxious.)

  Maybe the people who taught me to, forced me to put on the black armor are the broken ones. It was easier to tell me I was the broken one rather than offer comfort because, maybe, they wore their own black armor and had no idea what to do. (Thank You, Lord, for helping me find grace.)

  But I still say "forced me" because they did. I learned to wear the armor the same way I learned to tie my shoes: the message, the lesson, was repeated over and over, "Stop being so sensitive." And when I felt the feels of hurt, I was ashamed.

  Where's a penny when you need one?

  Smile... I don't have a penny, they stopped making them. I have something far better: a treasure trove of gold. It is far heavier than any old, worn and tarnished copper penny. 

  The gold is God's armor. 

  So, yes, I feel hurt because of someone's words; words spoken from a place of pain and intoxication. But there's a flip side to this record...I have also felt intense compassion for them. Their situation has moved me to tears at times. It's so very sad.

  You know something? I wouldn't have it any other way.

  I can easily forgive the name caller but more importantly, my Lord, this morning I can finally forgive the ones who molded, shaped and forged the black armor I wore for so very long. AMEN!

PS. It was during a time of meditative prayer, of waiting on the Lord, when He showed me the black armor I wore to protect my heart. He asked me if I was ready to take it off. I imagined undoing the buckles, of letting the heavy weight of helm and breastplate fall to the ground at my feet. I never felt so naked and vulnerable. This was over fifteen years ago.

  Smile. A lot has happened since then.