We all have one. Most of us are aware of what it is, some of us are just aware that “it’s” there. It scabs over enough most of the time to not become irritated and obviously painful to us. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t constantly attempting to soothe it. When you are alone, when it’s just you and the silence, you can sense it, if your honest with yourself. It’s a vulnerability like no other. So much of the time, when we begin to feel it, we retreat and we retreat quickly. Why? Because like most wounds, it’s sensitive, fragile and trying to get back to the way it was created before the accident that caused it rose up.
Some of us received our wound from a parent, a friend, a passing comment from an elementary school teacher or any number of other innocent sources. It’s almost as if we each have a specific vulnerability deep within us that gets triggered. And once it’s triggered we feel it, and we feel it deeply. From our head to our toes we feel every ounce of it. At first, and maybe for many years we “feel” it when certain events or words pull at the delicate emotional scab. I discovered mine when I was 34 years old. ”Your not capable.” This wound, for me is deep, it’s down to the bone with nerves exposed. It’s been with me for decades. I’m not sure what triggered it; what event, word or experience finely allowed my soul to be inflicted. And frankly, it’s makes no difference. I can’t change it. Knowing what, when, who or why is completely in-actionable. It has no power, force or value whatsoever for the present. What matters is that I know it’s there and I makes wise choices out of that awareness. Today I received a comment on a piece of work I did. It’s was from a wonderful, kind colleague. I scored a bit lower than I desired on something and as soon as I read her comments why, which were very appropriate, I immediately felt a rush of feelings. It was like those cold January mornings in Minnesota when you walk out that door and every part of your body gets pummeled with -20 degree air. Those feelings included fear, tenseness, uncertainty, doubt, depression and hopelessness. They rushed from my core to my face and feet in milliseconds. What I know now is that all those feelings have been solidified over years of patterned responses. I have spend so much time unknowingly practicing this, all the while having no idea the damage I was causing myself. What drove those feelings was a constructive remark aimed to better me that somehow connected itself to that wound. As soon as those words entered my mind, they tore at the scab just enough to let it bleed for awhile. Having the blessing of knowing I control what I think was the tool to combat that attack. While simple, it’s not always easy. But really, anything that is truly important in this life is simple. We do not have to reach a certain point intellectually or socially in order to finally experience true living. In fact, most young children experience more “life” that most adults.
Your wound may be different. Yours may be about your looks, your gifts, skills or the way you talk. But we all have one. And there is only one answer to this dilemma. There is only one way to allow healing to pour through that wound for the rest of your days. The answer is to know the healer and the way of healthy thinking. We know we are dependent creatures, if we think about it, it cannot be argued any other way. We “need”. As weird as it sounds, I wouldn’t trade that fateful night night that ended me up in the ICU for anything. Why? Because I realized through it that I was created to “need”. Whether or not I liked that fact had no impact on its truth. We need people, relationships and most importantly, the giver of all things, because without him, nothing else is. Living in each moment, and only in that moment is the way we were designed to live; to truly experience life. There is no getting around it. The option to ignore that truth is there, but if you make that choice, then the sad truth is that you simply miss most of life. We all have a wound, and while I am grateful to know what mine is, I want it. I don’t want a scar, I want a wound. I need it. It’s existence is a painfully constant reminder to me of my “need” for knowing the creator, Jesus Christ.