I remember this feeling of love and romance that couldn’t be explained by anything except for the monumental work that God was doing in my heart. I remember He was healing things in me and helping me process things, counseling me, delivering me, and in the quiet before and after those glorious but gut wrenching storms, I had this giddy, butterflies in my stomach feeling simply because of being loved and cared for.
I can’t remember when exactly that was or what happened to turn that feeling into debilitating anxiety. At some point, though, the switch got flipped, and I shut down. My memory about the switch flipping and the things that followed is all hazy and blotchy like Professor Slughorn’s modified memory.
That giddy feeling is stirring in me again. I’m believing, maybe for the first time that I am loved and valuable. I understand, for the first time that I am powerful in the things of which my life consists.
I just want you to know. The idea of all these things and of God being who He is and working the way He does even when I insist on being an incorrigible shit head is outlandish. I’m becoming free and whole, I think. I mean, I’m starting to recognize it, even though the concept has always been as much of a simultaneous fantasy and nightmare as the idea of reaching the peak of Mt. Everest. “Sure, I probably could if I was dedicated enough, in technical terms, at least. I’ve heard of it happening before. They made a movie about it… But as glorious as it sounds, it also sounds terrifying and lonely and painful. I don’t know if I want to do it, even if I do have what it takes.” That’s what I thought about the journey of wholeness (not TO wholeness, because it’s about the process of integrating oneself rather than becoming whole… or BECOMING anything for that matter… it’s about BEING and the inherent worth of that endeavor). I’m not at the top or anything, but it’s far less frightening from up here than it looked a little bit ago.
Who knows, maybe all of what I’ve just said is a euphoric illusion that I’ll retract tomorrow, when I’ve not spent most of my day reading and coloring. If that’s the case, then my prayer will still be that in the mean time, and in the midst of the pain, panic, and shame, that God will, in His remedial goodness (as Clive [CS Lewis] says), make it count. He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it, because He is able to do more than all that I can ask or think.