I had a brief workout on my arms today – brief because I got muscle cramps in my right arm after about two minutes on the weight machines.  ¡Ay Chihuahua!  I moved to the treadmill, and 25 minutes later into the dry sauna.  The sauna is turning out to be my best time to sit and visit with the Lord.

I sat down, and in the spirit saw him, my Lord, sitting on the top of a picnic table across the meadow.  I went over and sat beside him.  We sat in silence.  I squirmed around and became restless; then he put his arm around me and pulled me close.  We sat.  I began to cry and share that I really just wanted to go into the forest behind us, and sit where nobody could see me.  Where I could see out, but no one could see me.  “That’s pretty much how I roll,” I said.

“No,” he said, and continued with me held close.  I cried, and I cried.  No reason in particular, but at the same time, for every reason – every particular thing that has hurt.  Every sadness, every tiredness. I cried in relief and appreciation for his tight hug, his comforting hug.

“I just want to cry,” I said.

“Then cry,” he said.  “It’s okay.  You’ve held too much in.  You’ve hidden so much away that you don’t even know why you cry.  I know why.  And I know you’ve padded your body with fat to cover that which you do not want to see.  To cover the hurt.”

“Lord, I think that’s a little rude.  I’m embarrassed at the turn this is taking.” 

“It’s your conversation,” he laughed.  “I didn’t set this up.  You did.”

“Well, I’d rather hide in the woods.” 

I sensed that in a very real way, what I am doing to my body is impacting my soul, and what is happening in my soul is impacting my body.  I am beginning to lose some of that fat that I’ve evidently hidden myself with, and I sense that when more of it is cleared away I will see and understand more of what has been covered up in my soul.  It’s this self-discovery journey I am on.  And this journey is full of surprises.

And so I sit at the table and cry.

“It’s okay,” the Lord reassures me.  “You don’t have to break through and get everything out all at once.  It’s a process.  A process for you anyways, I’m already at the end – I know the results.  Don’t worry about it, but don’t neglect it either. Cry today, and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Okay.  Tomorrow.”

Part 2  (later, the same night)

I can’t seem to let go of what’s bothering me, of why I want to hide in the woods.  Then I start to remember an incident from childhood.  I guess I’ve always been a hider.  When my brother was in first grade and I was about 4 or 5 years old, he told me about a friend at school.  He said he was going to bring him home to meet me the next day.  I didn’t want to meet anyone.  So that next day when I knew he would be coming in from school, I hid.  I climbed under my parents’ bed.  I lay there a while and then it occurred to me that’s the first place he would look for me.  So I slipped out from under the bed and moved to my mother’s closet.  I closed the door, pushed my way into the back corner, behind her clothes hanging down.  There I sat in darkness. 

Sure enough, before long I could hear that Larry was home.  And sure enough, the closet door soon opened.  “That’s my sister Cathay,” he said to his friend, pointing at me.  Then they turned and left.  I don’t know how much longer I sat in the closet, but I think it was a long time. I was extremely embarrassed and didn’t know what to do.

Clearly evident to me now, I’ve done a lot of hiding.  I’ve pressed down so much – put it out of memory. I found life easier to watch from the woods rather than to sit in the middle of it.

I asked the Lord what to do about it. What I received was to just sit on the picnic table and stay away from the woods.  Hmmm, step away from the woods. Yes, a new mantra for me:  Step away from the woods.