"The loneliness thou speaks of I know. For do not think, darling, that it is confined to unmarried people. It is just as real in lives that have plenty of human ties, husbands, and children, and friends. It is the loneliness of this world life, the loneliness of hearts that are made for union with God, but have not yet fully realized it. I believe it is inseparable from humanity. I believe God has ordained it in the very nature of things by creating us for God's self alone. . . . Thee will accept it as a God-given blessing meant only to drive thee to God. Thy loneliness is only different in kind but not in fact from the loneliness of every human heart apart from God. Thy circumstances are lonely, but thy loneliness of spirit does not come from these, it is the loneliness of humanity. Therefore, nothing but God can satisfy it."
Hannah Whitall Smith, 1882
Last night nothing could make me sleep. I was staying the night with Pugsley at Jeff's house while Jeff was away at a retreat. Pugsley's dejection when Jeff is away is a terribly pathetic sight. His concept of time is limited. If Jeff is not home for dinner, Jeff is never ever ever coming home. A melancholy dog at the best of times, the pug spent his evening alternately staring imploringly at the door, begging it to let Jeff in, or imploringly at me, begging me to materialize Jeff, and draw him out of whatever hiding place I'd obviously stashed him. So I comforted the pug, who snuggled uncomfortably close to my substitute-for-Jeff form, and I stared at the ceiling, trying to sleep. I remembered believing when I was younger that insomnia meant you were needed, that you were being kept awake to pray for someone or something. I tried to pray.
There was a destructive and miserable relationship in my life, long severed, which has been brought into my daily existence again by unavoidable necessity and circumstance. This person injured me grievously, and I still feel the ill effects of that time in my life deeply and daily. They've simply been raised to the forefront of my consciousness and kept there, and can not longer be repressed at will (as they have been for years). All this time, I've hated them--not a big angry burning hatred, but a small, cold, quiet hatred, an almost invisible hatred--one that could pass most times for mere indifference.
But other times, I've accidentally found myself wishing this person dead, not through any direct malice, but just because I wish I could have the weight of them off my soul. I've repented immediately, but the evil thoughts have left their mark on my heart.
"Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer: and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him."
1 John 3:15
There have been times when I've been able to forgive a little bit, and times when the hatred softens and gives way a little bit. I pray about it when I'm able.
Last night I was given the gift of prayer, and I was able to pray for this person with sincerity, and that was good, and my hate receded again, further than it ever has before. I prayed that they would find healing and guidance and love, and I meant it.
Today I received a communication from them, which along with the necessary business contained an admission of their pain and their guilt regarding this history. And as soon as I was done reading it (it was very short) I instantly felt such a sadness that I thought my bones might break.
There can be no reconciliation with safety--the best to be hoped for in this case is a quiet absence of hate and a quiet hope for their well-being. But once upon a time this person, capable of such destruction and malice and fury, was the person I held nearest to my heart, the person all of my hopes and prayers were for, even as the abuse mounted. The whole affair was misguided and ill-directed and blighted and should never, ever have taken place. It was a terrible time.
I don’t think there are any tears left to be shed over this matter, and soon the immediacy of it will be over and I can lay it by again. But while I am being purged of my hate I am being left with the dregs of some different and painful emotion. Being forced to see your monster as human is to share in God’s own wound, formidably painful.
And I’ve been feeling so lonely since last night, and lonelier since I read that note from them--not because I miss this person--God willing when this present time has passed they will never be in my life again--but I am feeling very lonely. It is almost as if I had stuffed the hole this person made in my life with that quiet gauzy hatred and now that it's being pulled out I'm left with an empty space inside, needing God to fill it.
Of The Best Stuff, but Cracked
6 comments:
Amanda,
May God bless you, and hold you and heal you.
Will
Psychic hugs?
I know all too nearly what you're going through. Good luck . . .
-Sarah
Two commandments. Implicit in the last is permission to love ourselves. Only then can we love others. To do so is to love God...nothing exists apart from Him, however it may appear to us to the contrary.
In making us in His image, God shared with us His ability to love and be loved. He does not share with us the insecurities that make it difficult.
You asked me once how I came to be a reader......a consequence of simple serendipities. I remain a reader not because of what you write or the way you write it.....but because of the combination of the two. There is solace in you for others even when you can find none for yourself.It is why you have fans....and friends.
I observed once (tactfully I hope) that there seemed to be something of the martyr in you.....you agreed.
In life I've known only one pain that has no consolation.....one cloud with no "silver lining". It may someday be tolerable...never completely gone. Given its nature, that is as it should be.
I was happy to see the photos. In my minds eye you went from portrait to person.
Be kind to yourself.
Hey Kettle, Pot here. I just saw the comment you left, and I can’t help but notice that I’m distinctly...blacker...than you these days, what with the blogslack and all. I’ll be taking care of that this week.
Regarding your latest entry, I could take up a considerable amount of space with the reflections that post provoked in me. Suffice to say that I also know all too well the feelings you describe. I don’t presume to know anything about your experience, and who knows, if we were to compare the respective situations that engendered those sorts of sentiments, we’d probably find them quite different. But that emptiness, that hurt – those sound very familiar.
I was struck by this sentence: “Being forced to see your monster as human is to share in God’s own wound, formidably painful.” That is eloquently and truthfully spoken. And painful to read.
Light, hope, and healing to you.
It feels strangely like an honor to be permitted to read such raw, honest stuff.
These are tender times for you, aren't they? Perhaps they are less raw now than when you first wrote and shared this post.
The workshop I used to do at the FGC Gathering was called "Bringing Our Shadow into the Light." It provided lots of time for Friends to identify an aspect of themselves that felt unpleasant to them, and then lots of tools for Friends to learn what that aspect was really wanting to communicate but couldn't, except in a backward sort of way.
Similarly, you seem so very close to understanding what it is that the hatred you held was wanting to tell you... and the more gentle you are with it and with yourself; the more compassion you offer yourself in these holy, tender times, the more opening there might be for you to understand what this is all about.
In the meantime:
Trust your timing.
Ask for what you need.
Risk when you are ready.
Blessings,
Liz, The Good Raised Up
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