PLACES OF HEALING
I am currently in a healing stage of life. I have some wounds that have set me back a pace, ones that could fester if I let them.
Which, if we’re being honest here, sometimes I’d like to. I’m embarrassed to admit that I am one to root myself in my trials, replaying the unfair circumstances over and over and over again. The blog previous to this is proof of that alone.
(If you endured it, you deserve a medal.)
However, we have a loving God. We have a long-suffering God. We have a directing God. We have a God of tender mercies and miracles and healings.
“…Thus saith the Lord, the God of David thy father, I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears: behold, I will heal thee:”
The entirety of this summer the Lord has proven to me the truthfulness of this verse. I cannot count the number of times I have borne my soul to Him, and He has heard me. He has held me. He has created places of healing.
In a pew in the chapel, where some of my “adopted” children came to my side to ask me what the name of a crayon was, or how many whiskers a cat had.
In my grandfather’s chair, seated next to my grandmother, with trivia quizzes rolling across the tv screen.
In my back yard, where dog mess littered the grass, and the Lord spoke to me through the General Conference talks sounding in my ears.
In my grandmother’s kitchen, where a spilled loaf of bread created eruptions of laughter.
At a cafeteria table in Canyon, TX, where a friend told me to stop saying “if” my book would be published, and replace it instead with “when”.
On a cold folding chair, with a Primary child in my lap, and many to my sides, whispered stories and questions filling the air around me.
On the couch in my living room, the couch that my mom pulled me up from, to dance to Mamma Mia Here We Go Again.
At my dining room table, where game after game I lost to my younger brother and mother, and my father looked to me in a loser’s understanding.
On the phone with friends. Where, with either kind words, hilarious stories, or fierce loyalty, I was distracted from my worries.
In the Primary Room, where laugher and friendship helped to knit the cracks in my heart together.
In the passenger’s seat of a mini van, where giggles, singing, advice, and so many deliveries of ice cream showed me the love of the Savior time and time again.
At the side of my bed, where as I pled and begged for peace, my dog chose to stay, rather than abandon me in my sorrow.
Across the couch from my grandmother, where her insistence that I possessed a talent worth pursuing helped to reignite the confidence inside my soul.
At the Albuquerque Temple, where gathered with friends turned family, we witnessed what had to be the happiest couple become sealed together for time and all eternity.
In a classroom at FSY, a church camp I was volunteering at, but where the words of the Savior were meant for me.
At a dining room table, where I was made to feel loved, encouraged, and included despite my clear lack in capabilities at the game Skyjo.
In my grandmother’s living room, where she assured me I was doing the right thing. Also, where laughing was had with uncles, cousins, and friends alike.
On the screen of my phone, where the series The Chosen helps to connect me to the Savior that I know and love.
In the salon chair, where I am always accepted and welcomed with open arms.
In the comments section of Facebook and my blog’s chat room, where others assured me I was not alone in my thoughts and fears.
In the aisle at the supermarket, two friends becoming the answer to prayer I desperately needed.
Christ heals. He keeps the promise made in 2 Kings. He takes our worries and our sorrows and sheds them in a light that brings peace to our souls.
He offers relief in the most unexpected places, and the oddest of ways. Not once has He sent His aid in the way I was begging Him to do, and never once have I been anything but overjoyed that He did so. He doesn’t take the trial away, for he knows that would not be best for us.
Instead, He visits us exactly where we are, in the exact way that we need. He creates healing places wherever they are needed, using the people around us.
Thank you, to all, for helping to create my places of healing.
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