An ode to the women who've gone before me in healing. A promise to those in the generations that seek my "aged" wisdom to pass on a healed heart, rather than generational wounds that fester and trickle down in sneaky subtle comments and projected emotions.
A note of forgiveness to the women who have (without knowing) taken their wounds and given them to me - saying, "Here, you too must feel this way." Teaching me that I am not worth loving unless I please them. Teaching me that their emotions are my responsibility. Teaching me that my body must be perfect, too, or I am also not worthy of love.
I see your pain. The ways you've been wounded and the lies you believe about your own goodness or belovedness that tear you apart. And forgive me for the times I fail to love you there.
These encounters are many. Many with those who pass on their wounds like a person drops a trail of crumbs without knowing.
Yet, many encounters with women who have plunged the depths of healing in their own hearts and discovered the truth about their goodness and went even deeper than that. Diving diving diving into the places of their being where those lies came from. Why are they in my heart? Who said them? How can I seek healing for this part of me? And they sought help to answer all of the above. And they helped me seek answers to those questions, too.
Because, that help has to be sought. You cannot "pray away" those wounds. You cannot become healed and whole and joyful at all times by "willing your way there". Seek and ye shall find. Knock on the door of a good counselor, spiritual director, or trained professional.
I digress.
A promise. A promise given to those women who will look to me as a model for family life, motherhood, or womanhood. I promise to never tell you I have it all together. I promise to never imply that your growing belly is a curse. I promise to never communicate that I "need to lose this baby weight" or "need to clear up my skin" or "need to lose this 5 lbs" or "need to stop eating xyz" which inherently communicates that YOU need to do the same. Because you don't. You are good. Your body does not need to fit a mold to be beloved and beautiful.
Because beauty is something as it should be. Something as God created it to be. Not something fabricated or starved into submission or scrubbed into perfection.
A promise to my daughters, however many I may have the privilege to love. To my Frances. That you will never hear me say something negative about my own body which implies that you must avoid having that "negative thing" too. A promise that I will not hold you responsible for my emotions or how you "made me feel". Because that is not your duty or responsibility. A promise that you get the freedom to know that you are loved despite ANY negative thing. That I will communicate that you are loved in the midst of tantrums, or bad choices, or things I don't agree with.
And a promise that when I say never, I mean I that in all honesty, I probably will. As much as I desire to be a perfect image of the Father's love, I won't be. And I promise that when I fail, I will humbly ask for forgiveness and point you back to the perfect Father. The perfect love.
An apology to the ones I have hurt. The ones that my words, emotions, wounds, and anxiety hurt in the process. An apology to the ones that I keep hurting in my battle to fight lies. I fail often. And I know that it has an impact on the women and men that I love.
A note of the deepest gratitude and overwhelming joy to the women who have walked with me as I did the deep sea diving. So bountiful - mothers, friends, mentors, counselors, sisters, (religious) sisters, those younger than me, those older than me. This healing, this wholeness, this never-ending journey to become completely enveloped in the heart of Christ and to be made like him... it is impossible on our own.
So thank you to those who've brought me so far, and who will continue to walk with me on the journey.
To the heights, depths, and in-betweens of healing and joy and wholeness and belovedness and freedom and true-true-dang-good-daughterhood.
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