Whispered Wounds

The small diamond P hung from her neck like a whisper. Subtle, almost private, it rested above her heart. It was a tribute to her son, Patrick, who died, and every time I see it, I think not only of him but the truth that we all carry wounds, or deep sadnesses, wherever we go. Some hide their wounds, others give them voice, but the fact that we have them is a profound truth that could transform the way we live.

There was a time when I tried to have it all together. I locked my insecurities and fears away thinking no one would ever find them. I begrudgingly accepted my losses and failures and tried to move on as if they were things of the past, but I now know that they were with me regardless of how hard I hid or denied them. When I finally gave up and lifted my hands in surrender, I came to know a new freedom and a more stable happiness. Like the woman with the neckless, I let my wounds show. It has caused some to walk away and others to draw closer, which, I’ve learned, is the way it is with wounds. What surprised me most was how alive I felt.

As a person with a sapling faith, however, I’ve come to see that wounds are not only a gateway to intimacy with others, but also with the one who created me in the first place. Whether whispered or shouted, those things that have hurt me, embarrassed me, or broken my heart, are the very things that make me human. They scrape away the Teflon on my heart and make me knowable. They also make it possible for God to enter in like water finding cracks in the earth. For the longest time I tried to build an impressive spiritual resume so God would be proud of me, but that put me on a performance hamster wheel that all but killed my soul.

Now I see the holes in my tattered resume as the very things that lets light, others, and God, in. I wish there was another way. Maybe for others there is, but for me I have no choice but to wear my wounds around my neck and let the world do with me what it will. My worth comes from somewhere (someone) else. When I remind myself of that, the wounds I tried to hide become the very things that make me knowable - to others and God.