Into the Open

   "For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open." Luke 8:17

  My friend and I went to the local plant nursery. We were looking for a basil plant. This late in the season, there weren't many. We spent some time wandering around, checking out the season end specials.

  There were several Japanese Maples marked down considerably. It is a tree I've always admired. There's something special about their red and delicate leaves; how they move in the wind with shimmering crimson beauty. 

  It didn't take long to choose one. Somehow, the one meant to grace my yard had an extra level of personality and presence. And I felt somewhat sorry for her, too. The extremely hot summer had not been kind. Some of the leaves were dried and curled at the edges from too much sun despite the nursery's best efforts to protect the trees from the worst of the heat. 

  With guidance from staff on the best way to give her the best possible chance, it meant buying the right soil and a transplant fertilizer to give the roots a good start. I've chosen a sheltered place, both from the wind and the hottest part of the day. This beauty will get ample watering until the frost rolls in. It didn't hurt to pray a blessing on this newest addition to the gardens. (She has just now been named, too. "Beauty.")

  Maybe I chose this one because she represents how I am feeling: battered by the things I had no power over.

  There's grief in the stillness of being. It's a heavy, heart wrenching, profound sense of loss around what was never mine in the first place.

  I've learned something about trauma in all of this reflection. The Lord has brought some amazing teaching my way about the difference between PTSD and Complex PTSD.

  When there's an expectation of safety and that safe place/person/situation ends up going sideways, it's a traumatic event. Even when there is no actual physical harm.

  When the loss, or perceived loss, of safety is repeated over and over again, it can cause Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It is far reaching and not isolated to a particular event with a distinct beginning and end. That's what can cause PTSD.

  The child...I...did my best to manufacture the safety I longed for by staying small. 

  It didn't work. 

  I have been afraid my entire life, waiting for the other shoe to drop. After a lifetime of dropped shoes, it's not surprising.

  There have been well meaning people who have told me that fear is pride based. It's something I've struggled to relate to this situation. 

  The fear I struggle with is primal because it began before I had the vocabulary to even describe how I felt. If a toddler or child looking for comfort finds none, or worse, is rejected, what could they possibly know except to be afraid?

  And I learned to be afraid of myself because my emotions betrayed me and left me vulnerable.

  

  Into the open, dear Lord, with my singed leaves, no matter how painful it is. In You I trust. AMEN!