Speak the Word Only and My Soul Shall be Healed

Oh Lord calm the storm in my heart...

“Oh! For Thy mercies’ sake, tell me, O Lord my God, what Thou art unto me. Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. So speak, that I may hear. Behold, Lord, my heart is before Thee; open Thou the ears thereof, and say unto my soul, I am thy salvation.”
The Confessions of Saint Augustine

I’ve been mulling over what to share in this week’s email. Not due to writer’s block, but an overload of too much uncertainty. I haven’t been able to process anything comprehensible to share all weekend. My internal world is a violent storm with tsunami waves crashing into my tiny sailboat of a soul. I’ve asked Jesus to speak into my being and calm the storm.

It doesn’t seem to help much. Not because he isn’t listening. It’s because I’m not willing to let go yet. I’m hoping to process through my problems one more time and maybe, this one thousandth time, I’ll find a solution for myself. I think I can solve my own problem and be my own hero; just to prove my own idiocy.

I’ve isolated myself from my husband and stopped engaging with him because I’m hurt. In the recent weeks when I’ve tried to share my dreams and what I think is preventing me from achieving them, he has reminded me of my responsibilities and that my plans will take time to come to fruition.

I want it now! I’ve made up my mind and everything else needs to catch up. I’m hurt because I wanted to be heard and he reminded me of what I already know—and it’s painful. In order to relieve this pain, I hurt him back. I took the dagger he put in my heart and give it right back to him. I also twisted it real nice to make sure it hurt.

I feel ashamed, wicked and lonely. I’m punishing myself by distancing myself from everyone around me. I’m acting out like my five year old son does to get attention or when he doesn’t get what he wants.

On Sunday it took me 30 minutes to get my son to admit that he wanted attention. I taught him to ask for positive attention when he needed it. To ask for a hug or a kiss from mommy or daddy instead of being disobedient. He was very happy to practice it the rest of the day.

Today’s it’s my turn. It’s my turn to admit that I need some attention. Sometimes I feel that I am desperately lonely and afraid. I need someone to hold me, to stroke my hair and listen. I’m also supposed to be listening. I’m suppose to sit still and listen for His guidance; to listen for the still small voice that will calm the storm of my soul. Just a whisper and I will be healed.

Image: Caspar David Friedrich, Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, 1890, Kunsthalle Hamburg, Hamburg, Germany, Oil on Canvas