A fourth grade life affected and infected by those around me. It was a collision of sorts and I was not ready, I didn’t know I had to be. I had lived in the cocoon of my parents love and affection and was unaware there were those that intended devastation.

I must admit, the Two Sisters appear meek and mild. Almost friendly, and even jovial. But it is a facade.

I guarantee they bring a slow death, and you can’t get around that.

The wound they inflict is different than any other. It is the  kind of wound you hide. The one you keep secret. But that is the intent- they want to transform you. Alter you in a way that is uncreated.

Like I said, the Two Sisters find their way in, uninvited.

They are the match striking the flint.

They cause charred flesh.

They are the ones that come to unravel what was so beautifully knit together.

And as they tug on the “strings” of your heart, the flame that begins to burn chars the edges sealing in the wound.

Perfect they say…”Our work is complete until another opportune time.”

On the outside, you wouldn’t know it.  I looked strong and courageous. I appeared confident and secure. But let me tell you that was the charred edge; my charred flesh. It was the wall built up so the wound would not be exposed. Raw flesh is not pretty. It doesn’t look nice; It doesn’t smell nice. And it seeps…for a lifetime, it can seep. If you let it.

No one needed to know of the wound I carried. If so,the “real” me might be seen. The one that is weak and vulnerable. But then again, it was an alteration that was uncreated.

This wound makes us feel differently about ourselves. The reflected  image in the mirror changes. It is a distorted view.

We suddenly aren’t good enough. We suddenly see failure in ourselves. Our eyes are blinded to the beauty that was created so effortlessly by the Creator.

Without warning; we begin to believe we aren’t worthy of love.

Have you been wounded?

Is your heart charred?

The end of the story is this; My wound was exposed. My wound was then healed. I’m not sure what was most painful. The exposure or the healing.

One day I will tell you more.

I walked and lived with healed wounds for ten years. Then…

There is always a “then”. It is simply the pause between visits.

I am forty eight, and they had the nerve to say hello…once again,they found the crack in my door.

The interesting thing is, just like in the fourth grade, I acknowledged them. It was a quick conversation, but it was enough. Enough for the Two Sisters to make another impact on my remembrance.

Did I tell you they use that a lot; remembrance. They enjoy your memories. The ones you lock away…

So, yes.  I once again entertained the Two Sisters. I invited them in to sit with me for awhile. We talked, argued a bit, and then I realized the sting in my gut. The kind that makes you nauseous. Like when you are being unravelled.

Are you shocked?

You shouldn’t be. There are days and weeks we let down our guard. We forget to armor up and gird our loins with the Word that brings life. I know you’ve done that…

Charred flesh and frayed edges…

There is only One who can take care of those kind wounds. One.

Stipulation; You have to be vulnerable. You must decide to surrender and let your wound be exposed.

I won’t lie; it is painful. But- there is something strange that happens when wounds are exposed and revealed. Swiftly and unexpectedly the pain stops.

And then,there is that word again, the Healer comes. He works and removes the charred flesh. As a surgeon with a scalpel He cuts out the infected wall and breathes…

Did you feel it…

Just as the Creator gave life with His breath, He brings life to you.

And then…

 

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