Heal

As I walked with my dog Hank this morning, I found my mind drifting (as it is prone to do in the wee hours of the morning) to another time and another version of myself. I was reflecting on places I had lived, people with whom I have worked, mistakes I have made, injuries I have nursed, those I’ve tried desperately to earn the approval of, and a host of other factors that have paved the road of my journey thus far. 

My mind lingered on a knee injury in 2022 that then led to a back injury requiring countless sessions of physical therapy, mornings spent in traction, and days of wondering if I’d ever really feel or walk normally again. It made its way to having to say goodbye to one of my favorite beings in the whole world–my dog Murphy–and how that loss brought me to the realization that every loss–both human and otherwise–holds both the power to diminish us and expand us all at the same time. My mind went to one of the deepest betrayals in my life, and I noted how the sting of it still rattles around in the pit of my stomach, although not to the same degree it once had. “The body keeps the score,” the story goes–and my body is evidence that it truly does. 

As I made the turn toward the last quarter mile of my walk, the faces of so many people in my life appeared in my mind. There were teammates from high school sports teams that I had so hoped would like me enough to befriend me. There were adult coworkers who LOVED my sense of humor but weren’t crazy about going too far beyond that in getting to know me. There were friends who I allowed to use me, friends who brought out the best in me, and mentors who still offer wisdom and gentle pushes when I call them up to explain my latest predicament. There were women I had dated who had broken my heart, and there was the human who finally gave my heart a home–all of it a broken road of circumstances and relationships that wound their way to this morning. This walk. This place. This version of me. I imagine you’ve made a trip or two down roads like this as well.

As the warmth of my breath hit the cool air of the morning, I thought of all the opportunities I had been presented with along the way to NOT move forward. To stop. To steep in my hurt or my grief. To sit down along the side of the road somewhere and simply never get up again. And yet, that hadn’t been my story. I was never cured of whatever was causing me dis-ease (hyphen intentional), but I had–without really realizing it–managed to heal.

Our scriptures are filled with healing stories, and far too often we Christian folk read them as stories about cure. But they aren’t. Healing and curing are inherently different. Curing means "eliminating all evidence of disease," while healing means "becoming whole." The former, I have come to realize, has much to do with the latest medical technologies and therapeutic interventions, while the latter is very much dependent on me. This is oversimplifying it of course, but at the end of the day it would seem that we have much more to do with whether or not we heal–or become whole–than perhaps we do with whether or not we are cured of that which causes dis-ease within us. 

The other day I read a post shared on the inter webs by someone named Tracie Watkins that claims we owe it to ourselves to heal–to become whole–even in the face of disease or dis-ease. The post seemed to suggest that healing can beget healing, and yet, our healing is not contingent on whether or not those around us have healed or worked to become closer to whole. Our healing is contingent only on the steps we are taking to become closer to whole–regardless of circumstance. Here’s the post:

Heal. Your mom may never apologize to you, because she has conditioned herself to believe that she did right by you. She hasn’t healed.
Heal. Your father may never apologize to you, because he can only see what he’s done right. He hasn’t healed. 
Heal. Your family members may never apologize to you, because toxicity is what they were raised on. They haven’t healed. 
Heal. That “friend” may never apologize to you, because he/she isn’t sorry. He/she hasn’t healed.
If/when they reach their healing, they may seek your forgiveness. Be so healed that it won’t even matter. 
Heal. For you. You owe it to yourself.

So this week, I’m not just looking back, I’m looking to heal. I’m looking for opportunities to move myself closer to wholeness. I’m not looking for a cure–I’m not looking for opportunities to eradicate painful experiences and life circumstances from my life. I’m not interested in making wishes for things to be different. I’m interested in taking steps to BE different. More human. More fully alive. More than all of the people and predicaments that have diminished me, and more than any disease or dis-ease I have faced. I’m looking to become more whole–day by day and little by little. And I pray you’ll join me because--by my estimation at least--the world could use a little more wholeness and a little more healing.

Healing with you, 
Pr. Melissa

---