As we continue to attempt to find our way to some form of perfect, patient waiting for the third and final hurdle, I thought I would post an old update from 12.30.14. This is one I never posted at the time–don’t ask me why.

But as you read it, please know that we have pretty consistently been moving through the layers…and our load of onions is much smaller now. So hope prevails.

ONIONS 12.30.14

It almost always happens somewhere within the first six months to a year in someone’s work with me a a therapist: first they feel surprised, then a growing frustration with the pace at which change and healing occur.

I try to validate their sense of irritation, and to educate a bit about the healing process and the nature of defenses. But mostly, I just listen.

I want them to know that I will come alongside them–however long it takes–that I can wait patiently, they can wait patiently for something as valuable as the healing of a heart.

So the question is, can I do that for myself, now that I’m the one who is so fresh from trauma, yet so eager to be “done” with what I know is a multi-layered process that will extend over years.

Because clearly, these subtle, healing stages move at a snail’s pace. It is happening only the very tiniest layer at a time—almost imperceptibly. In so many ways denial (after only four months) has still not completely fallen away. So many nights, around 8:30 or 9:00 at night, I keep expecting Steve to walk through the door, ask about dinner, give a little “hello” kiss. Then God, like a kind, merciful attendant in an alzheimer’s facility delivers the truth with love: “He’s not coming home tonight, Carrie. He doesn’t live here anymore.” (long pause) “Oh. That’s right.”

I imagine it must be a similar kind of process for Ellie: some comfortable denial, followed by an encounter with painful reality, then a (hopefully) merciful reminder of what our life is now.

With each onion layer we peel back, I’m hoping and praying that a little more healing acceptance will take root and that faith and hope will calm and comfort our hearts, giving us courage to face the unexpected realities of the next moments, hours, days, weeks, months, years. Fortunately, our God is in it for the long haul. He has promised: “I will never fail you, nor forsake you.”

It’s a good thing, because I think that truckload of onions parked in my driveway is going to take quite awhile to process!

Grateful for your continued support!


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