I'm about to do the equivalent of Facebook "Vague-booking."
But I want to put this out there, in all it's ambiguity.
I hope I've never, in this blog, pretended that the church is always a safe place. It certainly isn't for everyone. Despite being gay, I've come through my lifetime in the church pretty well intact. I did my coming out in a safe congregation. I've long been aware of all kinds of ways that the church has blessed me where others have been beaten and broken.
I've also just realized that not all wounds are cuts or broken bones. Not all wounds are that sharp and sudden and obvious.
This is how I described it to someone today: It's like a spot that has rubbed raw. It may have started out as a mild abrasion, but eventually, it gets ugly. Like a bed sore. But because it starts as a mild abrasion I could treat it that way. No big deal, just a scrape.
This past weekend, I had a visit with my spiritual director. I've been seeing him for over a year and I've sometimes wondered what it was doing. It felt like a regularly scheduled ramble session by me, with a very kind man listening. Sometimes I just complained. I can't imagine it's been pleasant for him. Still, he said he saw "movement" (a word he prefers to "progress") and I've come to trust him. Movement seemed reason enough to keep the appointment, even if I didn't necessarily feel it myself.
Then this past weekend---I don't know what happened. I think maybe I/we got more specific than usual (certainly more specific than this blog post). I could see a light go on for him. He realized the depth of something I think I've talked about before, but this time he saw a specific consequence. Maybe that's what happened. He might say otherwise.
But the light going on for him somehow illuminated my own story. He saw something and he seeing it somehow made it legitimate. He saw the wound and I saw it through his eyes.
He saw it as significant and I can no longer pretend it's "no big deal."
I've thought about this all day today. Pondered it in my heart, to use biblical language. The bed sore image makes sense on many levels. Paralysis, not moving, is what leads to bed sores.
It's past time to turn over and give it a chance to heal.
The "movement" seems to be a breeze, but it's moving. She's moving. Mysteriously.
Come, renew the face of the earth. I have a glimmer, today, that it's possible.