It was too hard.
The memories, the pain, it was too hard.
I remember.
What a joke it seemed, to be recovering memories for this kind of pain.
Yeah I understood that it was for the best. I understood that I had to feel what was impossible to feel the first time. I understood when people told me it would get better although I really did not believe them.
I had just gone through an Easter memory, and it was too hard. That was all I could think.
Something had to change.
I went to see Mary. I tried to explain.
She asked if I had a plan.
Pills probably. But I would not be one who got caught. I was not doing it so someone would see me. I would do it to exercise choice. My. final. choice. The ultimate.
She reminded me of my husband. She brought to mind my kids. She talked of the positives. But when we were done, my mind was not changed.
I went home. The next day was good Friday. Great, a weekend of Easter. I sat on my couch after the kids were at school. Looking at nothing. Unable to move. Pain permeated every inch of me. Overwhelming pain. God!
I was trying to regain some sort of cohesion. When he came. Into my living room. Invisible but visible. I saw his outline and sensed his solidity. Jesus. He was there. I did not think it would matter. I hung my head.
He stood before me, then sat. How, where there was no chair, but he did. And he spoke, gently.
Your husband is not enough.
He knew. I loved my husband but the pains demand was greater.
I shook my head. No.
He spoke again.
Your kids are not enough.
I began to cry.
They should be, but in the honest examination my love for them was not overriding my need to escape this pain.
I was ashamed.
As I said again, no.
He paused. He was not surprised. He did not condemn. He was not shocked or overwhelmed. He didn’t need to fix me or persuade me or change me.
After awhile as I continued crying he spoke again.
I was wondering, he began….he paused. I was wondering if….there was an uncertainty almost in him, as if he was not certain what I would say. I focused on him. I was wondering if….for a little while….if living for me would be enough of a reason for you….to choose life.
It was a pivotal moment for me.
I realized he would not force me.
He was willing to offer himself even though it would hurt if I rejected him.
He made himself vulnerable to me. He risked. For me.
Knowing. Knowing it all. He waited.
The place inside me that had been touched by him before came alive.
Hope that had no faith arose.
I said, I guessed, I could try.
The moment I did, strength came.
A drop of his strength, into me, making me able where I was unable.
His pleasure was my strength.
His joy made my pain lessen.
And I could move again.
It was not gone instantly. There was not a miraculous stopping of the pain. But I became able to breathe again and think of other things beside it.
This Easter I am reminded. Of that Easter. And what He has done.
All praise to God, my Father, who has freely given me all things through his Son.
I don’t live in that pain anymore. But His joy is still my strength.