Let the Son Shine In
March 21, 2010
No matter how controlled I force myself to be, there are times, when life comes along and whacks me. I know this happens to everyone, but today, I feel like I’m the only one who awakens from a nightmare that is so real and so verging on truth that it affects my being to the very core of my existence.
Wounds that are so deep, which have healed over at the surface seem to be ripped open beneath the skin. There is no bleeding that is visible, but the pain is so intense, I want to do nothing.
I’m supposed to be getting ready for church, but I feel as if life is eclipsed by the reminder of the pain. My face hurts as the tears want to force their way out of my eyes. I want to hold them back. I want to will the tears back down deep. I want to smile. I want to dance. I want to sing. I want to not feel like sludge, dirty grimy slimy sludge, that has been filthed up by the reminder of the pain of the past.
In the dream, I simply don’t know what direction to take. I want someone to tell me, not just the next step, but how to repair and fix the damage. I want my child to not hurt. I want to comfort, but don’t know how. All of my attempts fall flat and get all skewed out of proportion.
Why am I sitting here reliving a work of fiction, in which I know most of the key players and know that most works of fiction are a spark of a reality, that permeated into the core of my being? Perhaps God is at work? Perhaps there is a message of hope that He wants me to see. I always want to find the “something” that keeps me going, that keeps my mind from staying in the horrid place of dwell. Yet, I must go there to find the hope.
As I search through the dream, there are images I cannot shake. The images that caused the pain for my loved ones. How could I not have prevented it when I was right on the other side of an unlocked door? Because that was in the dream — in the dream the reality was visible to me on both sides of the door.
If I could act how I feel, I would lie beneath my covers and cry out in pain as I writhe about waiting, hoping, praying for relief. But I can not.
The pull to relive is so strong. The desire to get on with a joyous day is weak.
It was just a bad dream I keep reminding myself. I mean really —- my kids weren’t in school and Tom Hanks was never the superintendent who also didn’t know what I should do.
Ah — I hear hope rising…in the voice of one of my children – not in the nightmare but in the room beyond my door. His voice echoes through my room as he is trying to arouse his younger brother from sleep. I hear the echoes of my self as he half speaks and half sings, “Good morning Sunshine.” I’m guessing it’s a bit irritating to the twelve year old brother and he probably grunted a bit and sank beneath his covers trying to shut out the real world to stay in his dream world of sleep.
Oh the irony as I want to shut out the dream, rather nightmare, world and emerge as a butterfly finally free — into the real world.
Perhaps I was allowed this painful reminder — so I could truly see how brightly the Son shines, even on a cloudy day.
It is time to go send some praises to the One who keeps me from writhing in the pain of life and reminds me gently that I am His Sunshine. And for today – His Only Sunshine. Oh how I love how he makes me feel special with the gentle reminders that speak to me – and only to me.
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