The Milkwood Seed

This past Sunday, during our small group time before service, we were asked about our passions. This class is designed to help participants discover their fit - what they are good at, what they enjoy, etc. There is an online test which can help a person discover more about themselves.

I have taken this test in the past, but have not retaken it yet for this class. However, I do not need a class to tell me my passions. My two greatest passions are my babies and my words.

My cat, Ray Ray (Rahima) and my dog, Bailey are the loves of my life. My heart overflows in love for them. It is remarkably easy for me to shower them with kisses and snuggles and "I love yous". They teach me about love. God uses them to teach me.

Words. They are my gift, my greatest form of expression. When I had cancer, my sister set up a blog for me. She intended it as a way to update everyone on my progress, saving me the stress of endless texts and phone calls.

The blog turned into something so much greater. It was the best and most effective form of therapy for me. It was my way of getting out all the stuff in my head and helped me to make sense of everything going on in my life. It healed me. It saved me. Not only that, but others told me how much they learned from what I shared. It helped them know how to help me - and others. In my fiction, my goal was always to show the darker side of Christianity - how we, too, suffer, but how our relationship with God helps us to overcome. My blog turned out to be a real-life adventure in the darker side of the Christian walk - my walk.

That is what this blog is for me now - post cancer. It is still my healing, my therapy - my purpose - my gift - my passion. I know very few people read it. I have never attempted to promote it. This blog is not about that. Like my cancer blog (and even like my fictional stories), I never set out to write for "them". However, when just one person comments on how my vulnerability and honesty in my words helped them, it is worth it.

I struggle with vulnerability in life. With words, it is easy. These words build up inside of me and I cannot contain them. I have no choice but to write them down. Words are my greatest passion.

So, what are the words telling me today? I need to verbally set them free.

This past year, my counselor and I have been unpacking the words which do not want to be spoken, but words which need to find voice if I am to continue healing and growing. There is one word I have as of yet been able to type or verbalize. My counselor can say it, I can acknowledge it, but I cannot own it by letting it pass through my fingers or mouth. I have tried, but it refuses to come.

Every time I even think it, my face contorts, my shoulders tense, my nostrils flare, my jaw clenches, my chest tightens, and my breathing becomes labored. I hate this word. It makes me angry.

This past Sunday, our pastor ended the service by asking us to spend a few minutes in silence, listening to God. I do this quite regularly, but I participated in the exercise anyway. Oh, it was so nice. I got such a peaceful feeling. I imagined a milkweed seed floating in the wind. It seemed to be aimlessly floating, but I recognized the invisible hand of God holding the seed as it flew. "Let it go. Be free," I sensed Him telling me.

The weight of anxiety pushing down on my shoulders makes me feel so heavy. I wanted to be free like the milkweed seed. What a glorious feeling. "What am I supposed to let go?" I asked.

The next morning, during my prayer/journaling, I contemplated what I was supposed to let go to be free. At first, the only thing I could think about was humorous. That was obviously not what God meant. That would get me into a lot of trouble and make some very angry. It would not be a welcomed gesture!

Then He told me - the word. Speak it, own it, release it. Do not give it power. A name - a person to speak it to - a friend who has heard my other secrets and treated me with respect, never shaming me. I sent her a text before I could change my mind, asking to talk with her. Then, I replayed in my head what I would say. How would I even start? Each time, I never got to the word. I can't even do it in my head.

He stopped me, told me to just say it - without minimalizing it - without explaining it away - without any sort of justification - own it and let it go.

As the day went on, I thought about what else we could talk about, what I could possibly tell her without telling her what I really needed to say. Could I come up with something else before we meet?

Then, I had a dream. In my dream, I was doing research for my class project. I was already done, but someone gave me a book they thought I would enjoy. I flipped through it, but initially saw nothing of interest. I didn't want to keep working, so I set the book aside. But something kept gnawing at me, pulling me back to the book. I picked it up again and found an intriguing chapter.

It was about Gorgonia's secret.  (Gorgonia was the person I did my class projects on). This secret would be scandalous now, but back then, it would have outright destroyed her. All we know about her is what her brother, the great theologian, wrote about her. Had this secret been out, he would have never written about her and she would have been lost to history. I would never have been impacted by her witness.

My heart broke for her. The secret she carried was no sin, but misguided and judgmental "Christians" would have ruined her because of it. What torment she must have carried.

The dream (and only a dream - I know of no secret "sin" in her life) could have encouraged me to keep my secret for fear of being destroyed as Gorgonia would have been. However, it did the opposite. It made me realize that I have to let it go. I cannot be free like the milkwood seed as long as I keep it and protect it. After all, isn't that what I am doing by refusing to speak it? I am coddling it, giving it extreme power and influence in my life.

Last night, I watched a video by Louie Giglio based on his book, Goliath Must Fall. In it, he said we are not David in the story. He compared us to those cowering, focused on the problem. David was successful because he looked higher than nine feet. He refused to give the giant the power. David is Jesus, coming to rescue us, helping us to see above, helping us to defeat our giants, pointing us higher. We will never be free as long as we keep our gaze trained on the giant, giving him all the power.

That is exactly what I am doing - giving the word all the power.

For the purpose of this blog, what my word is does not matter. We all have our words. My goal today is to take away its power by speaking it to a trusted friend - then letting it go so that I can float free like the milkwood seed.