Sunday, September 26, 2010

Walls

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So Jerusalem's wall lay in waste, the gate had been burnt down, and a man named Nehemiah decided that he was going to rebuild that wall. Wall building is difficult, sweaty business, especially in the days before cherry pickers and dump trucks. Yet God blessed Nehemiah's work and it began. He sent him workers to help him. People mortgaged their vineyards to come up with the money. The wall was built in record time and was even protected from the people who decimated it in the first place (don't you go messin' wit' the hand of God!). Jerusalem was once again protected.

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This all got me thinking that during all of my therapy I have had walls crashing down about me. Acknowledging that, yes, I was abused, and yes, I am scarred by it, and yes, I have a mental illness and I need help has all crumbled the mortar of some of the strongest walls that I have: pride, Independence, deniability, and my favorite wall - the "If I just don't think about it, it will eventually go away" wall.

So now that these walls are down, I have to figure out what is going up in their place. What sort of halo does God want surrounding me? What will the purpose of my halo be? What person am I becoming? Who are the people who are going to take the journey with me?

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My life certainly has not followed the plan that I had laid out for it. I'm sure that there are many of you that can relate. The only plan I ever had led up to being a doctor and ended up with me being a sort of grizzled but pretty white haired woman still taking care of kids. Well, that plan went "kerplewie!" I have found artistic talents within me that I never knew existed and that thrill me and ground me. The other day I was talking to my mom and she said to me, "You know, I always saw you as more of an artistic type, but you were so hell-bent on being a doctor . . ." People all around me are giving me the permission to become this person that is emerging, this writer/photographer/indie artist, and it feels good (it'd feel a lot better if I could start taking amazing pictures with my new camera, but that will come). My husband gave me the go ahead to write; not blog write per say, but write - fiction, non-fiction, free lance, all that jazz. God is forming a path for me. One that I could have never saw coming, but a path nonetheless.

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Do you have walls that need to be rebuilt? Walls that need a good whacking down? Are you unsure of your direction or place in this world? Let God lead you to it.

My faith walk still has its ups and downs. I went to my old church today, but it didn't feel like the right place for me still. So I'm homeless, in a way. Prayer doesn't come naturally to me (yes, I know all you have to do is talk to God, but you have to remember, I'm conditioned to be independent and solve all of my problems myself). I see my husband bow his head in prayer in the middle of the day out of no where and it makes me feel like I'm not doing something right, because it sort of irritates me. But day by day I start to feel a bit more whole. A bit more like that girl that shone with the love of God a few years back. As the walls become what they need to be, that light shines a little brighter.

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5 comments:

stringsofpurls said...

Praying for you, Erin.

Lana said...

I think you still have walls, but they are not made of impenetrable material. People can climb over them or go through your gates as they earn your trust and respect.

I think also this you have one place where all the walls open to let God in. With him comes His angels here on earth who make you the person you want to be.

Defenses are good to keep those who would hurt you, but now there will be gates that you will freely open to those who deserve to come in to your life.

stef said...

loved this post.

Emily Joyce said...

Wonderful post Erin. Praying for you :)

Kamika said...

I related to this beautiful post on so many levels, thank you for sharing your journey with us. Often those with troubled or hurtful pasts turn to art later in life...I did. And it saved my life. Literally.

As my Dr pointed out to me once (in friendly humor) "all the good artists are at least a little crazy, or tortured it fuels their art"

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