Wednesday, March 15, 2006


The following takes place during a 24 hour period. The events described happen in real time.
I wear myself out.
It is six a.m. and I have to leave for work in a few minutes. I’ve been up since 4:30. Didn’t sleep well.
There is a list I could attach here of the reasons for my poor sleep but they aren’t really what’s doing me in. I’m worn out because my feelings are hurt.
I had what I thought was exciting news yesterday. I waiting for a few hours for the Mr. to get off work so I could share it and let’s just say when I told him my big news; he was underwhelmed. Now I’m hurt. He has his explanation for his reaction and it makes sense to him but it doesn’t seem to do anything in the way of making me feel better.
I am a poor manager of hurt feelings. I really don’t know where to put them. It seems that I should just let it go, as that is the prevailing wisdom. But I can’t seem to get my fingers to unclench from around the hurt. It makes no sense, that I should insist on keeping pain but here I am, thirteen hours and a few apologies later still hurt with no plan on how to be unhurt.
I’ve mentioned that I’m quite the anger diva and I’m working on getting off that sinking ship. Which I’m doing in baby steps but as I step away from angry girl, I find myself more vulnerable to hurt girl. I don’t know which I like better. At least angry girl felt powerful.
It’s 10:36 p.m. now. I went to work and then to our ladies’ life group and now I’m home, long day behind me. I’d like to say that in the course of this long day I gave the hurt feelings over to Jesus and walked in victory throughout the work day. Not so. I stayed good and hurt all day and most of the evening.
Went to my ladies’ group and had a really sweet time of sharing and fellowship. These women honor me with their presence and friendship. During the evening at some point I accidently stopped being hurt. After I came home I was suddenly aware that I was talking to the Mr. minus my patented clipped tones and stoic countenance. Doggone, I forgot to stay hurt. Wonder how that happened?
I have my suspicions. I suspect that despite my resolve to remember forever how much he hurt me, my heart betrayed me and the love trumped the hurt.
I suspect that the being the middle of two hours of God-seeking and heart-sharing with my home girls, the Holy Spirit did some rearranging in me.
I suspect that I’m addicted to the freedom of releasing pain and sometimes I just let it go ahead of schedule.
Driving home tonight I was chatting with my sweet friend Michelle (a.k.a. Michelle Mabelle). We were talking about how upset we can get over small issues and how long we can hold them and how foolish it is. We were wondering what makes us do that. Why we grab after pain so much harder than we grab after grace. How we don’t want to continue in that. How much better grace is.
I used to do a better job of holding on to pain. I could go days, weeks, months. Go so long I didn’t know how to turn it back. Now I lose steam after a mere 24 hours. It’s rolling off of me, this hurt thing. The older I get, the more years I stretch my life toward Christ, the faster my fist opens up to drop the pain. I’m not explaining right so I’ll let Paul finish the thought...

1 Corinthians 13:11
When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.

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