My heart is wounded.
Things have been hard for such a long time. I’ve learned, I’ve grown, I’ve been shown the depth of my strength, which I certainly would not have believed there was any more to be had.
I’m finding myself holding tightly to the truth of who I am, to all I know to be true. I breathe it in deeply, breaths of healing to my heart.
I wonder if you’re feeling it too.
Know this: Whatever is gone, changed, causing stress and anxiety, you survived and are surviving. That’s something to celebrate!
Yet, there are deep wounds and so many, and new ones every day, all eating away at the strength of my heart, and the knowing in my soul that I am resilient, there is nothing to fear but fear itself, and the knowing that wounds heal and definitely don’t define me.
They are real, painful, overwhelming and some may never be gone. But my truth is they can heal. Wounds can leave scars but scars don’t infect.
The infection comes when we ignore the wound, don’t give it the attention it needs and it festers. The wounds of our soul need cleaning. The cleaning out of fear and stress. It stings but it’s the only way to heal and hear the soul’s wisdom. The wounds I’ve endured, we all have and are enduring, zap our strength, scratch at the truth of what we know and who we are.
I am so disheartened at the ways in which so many seem to have disavowed their power to think for themselves. Critical thinking is abandoned because it feels like it takes so much energy, yet those are the very things that infuse strength and guide us to that place of peace.
So, I take a deep breath and sink into the healing waters of peace and what I know to be true, knowing that disappointments in events or behaviors are not things I have to make right.
Today, I get to choose what I do.
I get to choose what’s really important.
I have permission to rest.
The stinging cleansing of my wounds has made room for the comforting of my pain as my heart strengthens against so much suffering and mistruths.
My fear is washed in a river of peace.
The falling snow out my window reminds me of the purity of life, the soft beauty that softens the suffering.
The healing of a life that tells the story of strength, renewed over and over by truth, the story of a heavy heart that is as light as the snow.
Softness falling,
Let’s talk about the healing of our wounds RuthieLewis@cox.net
HERE’S MY FREE “MY CRISIS AFFIRMATIONS”