I’ve been meaning to write this for about a week (ohmigosh I’m about to post in real time. This must be big).
I don’t want to write it now because I’ve only read two of the five books I need to read today (today i reading day in Ritzland) and at this EXACT moment, what I’m about to say doesn’t feel true. But I know it is and not feeling it is just an extensions of God’s grace on me for this moment (although thankfully, I also know that when I do feel it, that will also be God’s grace, because that’s all life is for me anymore- an adventure with a sovereign God).
Anyway, to get past talking about what I’m going to talk about and actually talk about it, late me just put this out there:
this semester is going to be a rough ride.
let me tell you the not-reasons why:
It’s not because of boys or lack thereof.
It’s not because of time or lack thereof.
It’s not because of relational conflicts.
It’s not because of disillusionment or discontentment with job or school.
It is because…..
and this semester I’m exploring more of the helping profession, going deeper into personal issues, and processing EVERYTHING I learn not just in my mind, but in my heart.
Processing in my heart what it means to help clients with abusive pasts.
Processing in my heart what it means to help clients who are the abusers.
Processing in my heart what it means to work a job where every day, I hear (and possibly take on) the hurts and hangups of the people I help. Where I live through mostly just the hard parts of several peoples lives.
Processing in my heart that I’m not sure in my head why any of us do this.
And, I’m so reluctant to admit, because I fear you’ll see it as disqualifying me from helping, I’m processing in my heart my own past.
from new angles.
with new techniques.
So that I don’t end up in a session some day breaking down in front of a client over something they say that reminds me of something I did, or was done to me.
Processing in my heart that forgiveness DOES NOT MEAN being over something. It means I’m not mad at the person or situation that hurt me. It doesn’t mean I am not still hurt.
And it doesn’t mean anyone expects or needs me to be anything other than I am right now in God’s perfect timing and process of sanctification.
So I’m saying this now in case you wonder later: If I need help, I promise you, I PROMISE YOU, I WILL ask for it.
But if I start crying, there may be nothing “wrong,” I may just need to cry.