I tend to clutch my wounds tightly to my soul, holding on, vowing to never be wounded again. Somehow, I have come to the conclusion that if I hold on to the wound tightly, I won't ever be hurt that way again.
Only it doesn't work like that.
It was a wounding type of day. Deep... raw... ugly. Hours later it's just me and the dog wrapped under a blanket. The house is dark and cold... the windows streaked with rain. My heart streaked with unshed tears. Will I let my heart get cold and dark, too? Will I clutch this wound tightly hoping to protect myself, my kid, my life? And then I remember...
it doesn't work like that.
Life hurts. People wound. Love stings... and there is no such thing as fair.
Instead, there is grace... undeserved merit or favor. There is mercy... undeserved forgiveness or compassion. And, there is forgiveness... undeserved forgetting of an offense.
It's in the surrender of the offense that I see grace... mercy... forgiveness. It's in the surrender of the pain that I find healing by the Great Physician.
And, it's in the surrender of the wound that I let it go and love again.