Security Blanket

The Giant Season of Winter has loomed with sudden strides and footfalls of frost have frayed the rim of my thoughts. Chill gusts have blown me senseless and grieving into dark corners. I want to wake up and it not be true. Or have slipped into another realm of fluid communication so that this is not so awkward and clumsy and bare. Or have the experience, courage and certainty to avoid shaking in the churn of grey waves of grief.

But the surface of my reality still exists underneath the sorrow. If who I am is formed at all by the journey of our life and experiences, then there is a patch of me that is threadbare. The fluff, warmth and structure has worn thin away, leaving my inner child exposed to the elements and although this is disconcerting, there are frost-free slivers of my mind that know it will not last.

My own threadbare patch is only a smidgen of the story, for there are others far more bruised, cracked and weary than me. The big tapestry we all are woven into in the netting of family has come apart and frayed torn places remain. The happenings of the present tend to distort my perception of the contours of the past, like seeing previously unnoticed and invisible rips and holes suddenly illuminated by the current flash of events.

I close my eyes and picture the Great Mender having us laid over His knee like a quilt and tenderly moving his fingers over the threads, re-stitching, adjusting, unravelling, straightening and firmly knotting back the loose threads, so that despite the structure of society that sets the words and phrases according to the circumstances, we are knitted back into wholeness of heart again. My thoughts are not deep like those of the Great Mender's. Only He sees the big design.

I have nothing but respect and honour for my parents. I do not question the choices or decisions they have made regarding their separation, knowing that their own walk is exactly that, their own. I admire their courage, humility and transparency and despite the tearing of the fabric of identity that I took from birth for granted and blissfully wrapped about myself, I understand that in order for freedom and healing to come to pass, pruning, snipping and painful mending needs to happen. Seeing that my security should not come from my earthly parents anyway, this has been a timely reminder for me to focus my eyes of who I am in light of my creator and not look with expectation towards others. Marriage is partly about owning the responsibilty to keep yourself whole in order to offer the other one hundred percent partnership and it is worth them pursuing this individual desire for inner restoration regardless of the outcome.

My tear-filled, wintery, threadbare season is merely that, and a comfortable fairytale existance having never been promised to me, I am no longer as desperate with lament in these cooler darker times. Instead I am settling the fluttery part of myself down to reside in this place under shelter of wing, allowing hope to rise and surrendering to the season with a quietness of heart knowing in due time, spring will come calling.

Erin  – (June 10, 2009 at 10:24 AM)  

sigh.
Penetrating insights, Amy.
Very sorry that circumstances compel you to write this.

Knowing the Great Mender means there is always hope for the scraps of life we toss in a heap. Hope.

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