In my last post I talked about an answer to my prayers, that came in the form of an email offering to pay my expenses for 4-day Christian healing program (HeartSync) that runs seminars and helps many people suffering from trauma and PTSD, many who were not helped by anything else, including traditional psychotherapy. HeartSync is a spiritual therapy based on biblical principles. I talked to the woman who is funding this (Kate Miller) at length on the phone last night, and we found out a little more about each other, but I’m not really a phone person and I get a terrible signal anyway (probably because of all the mountains here), so the conversation was a little disjointed. I did get some of my questions answered though, and found out a bit more about how this program works. I also Googled HeartSync to read some testimonies, but I was tired and didn’t do an in-depth search last night. I didn’t see anything negative, though. It appeared to be a legitimate Christian healing program.
Kate and one other person have also kindly donated the money I will need, and it looks like the request I put in at work will also be approved (even though I didn’t get to talk to the boss yet). So it looked like God was moving a few obstacles for me and that this experience was really going to happen! But it all seemed so fast! It was too easy! What if it wasn’t God moving the obstacles? What if something else was doing it? It all seemed too good to be true–and I don’t trust anything that seems “too good.” I needed to have faith, but–how does one tell the difference between faith and foolishness?
Kate had suggested that I put in a request for an entire week off from work rather than just four days. I was told that the experience would likely be so intense that I’d probably need a couple extra days (plus the weekend) to process everything. Hearing that raised my shackles. Uh-oh! I felt a little afraid! What on earth was I REALLY getting into? Could I get out of it if I needed to? I was already booked though! I had to talk to Kate some more and also do some more digging on my own.
I found quite a bit of information, but this one, from a private blog called On A Mission in SF, blew my mind:
We recently worked with a woman named Bri (who gave me permission to share this story:)), who had been cut off from feeling emotions because of childhood wounding. From early on, she discovered that if she shut off emotion and prevented it from having a voice, it would keep pain from being experienced. When she felt an emotion coming up due to heartbreak, pain, etc, she would shove it back down and become numb to the presenting situation. When she began receiving Heart Sync prayer, the Lord revealed that this began when her parents had gotten divorced and brought to light a decision she had made as a child to not feel in order to protect herself from more pain(something she was unaware of until He revealed it consciously). The pain was beyond her capacity to bear at the time, so a part of her had come up with a solution to keep her safe, the only way she knew how— to completely shut off to all emotion forever. But by cutting this off, she was also prevented from experiencing joy and love. But now, God was offering her protection in Himself, healing for the part of her that was wounded in the divorce, and an invitation for her to be able to fully feel again under the protection and safety of the person of Jesus. Since then, Bri is able to fully access and use her emotion in a way that is healthy. She began to experience emotions again, and not just for herself but also for others. As a missionary, she has found her heart has become tender and compassionate toward those she serves, “I feel more pain, but it feels so worth it because I am able to enter into those places of pain with people and really sympathize, where as before, my heart felt calloused. This is compassion!”
I remember the first day I sat in a training for the HeartSync approach- it felt like the Holy Spirit ran into my inner world and called every part of me to attention, even the parts I didn’t realize existed or had worked endlessly to shove down, and said,
“Hey. I see you. And I’m coming to heal and love every part of your heart that hurts. You were made to be whole and to know the love of God in the deepest parts of your heart.”I’ve come to believe that we are desperately in need of a Doctor for our hearts. Yes, even us Christians who love the Lord and have given our lives to Him. There are always new depths of intimacy and healing with the Lord–it is who He is! We have all experienced our fair share of pain and suffering, and have battle wounds and scars hidden deep within to prove it. We’ve come up with our own ways of self protection to guard against more pain.
But the most glorious of news, because of the price Jesus paid for us on the cross, those wounds and scars do not have to stay buried deep within us. There is a Healer who wants nothing more than to heal and restore that which was lost!
The HeartSync approach, the primary heart healing method we use at Linden Tree Outreach, was developed by a man named Father Andrew Miller and it focuses on synchronizing broken and divided hearts first to God and then to each other. With my counseling background, I have often wondered if there is a connection between psychology and Christ-centered inner healing, as I see the value and purpose in both. Wonderfully, there is a substantial amount of brain science correlations that not only support Father Miller’s findings but fuel it (more on this at a later point).
So how this works: each of us have Core Parts. Father Andrew has given names to them, to help identify and distinguish these parts. These consist of:
– the Function Part helps us function daily (brush our teeth, write, drive, etc.) and believes that knowing certain information about one’s history is incompatible with survival and/or function –the Emotion Part is most closely connected to the pain, depression and trauma we have experienced – the Guardian Part that believes the Emotion and Function parts must be kept apart or the Function will be too overwhelmed to do daily functioning, so is devoted to keep them seperated.
These Core Parts are universal and part of our creative design, but they were not designed to live in opposition, but instead work together as a team. And they were also created to all be in relationship with Jesus. But because of the fall, we have all experienced varying degrees of trauma and pain which have created desynchronization between our parts and the Lord (meaning they are no longer working in unity), and we are all in need of God to bring restoration to each area of our heart and restore them to their design and function. He does this healing places of hurt and trauma and correcting incorrect beliefs about God and ourselves.
I don’t know about you, but I am desperately in need of this kind of healing. Our world is full of people who are living in disconnection from God and parts of themselves–just trying to get by–not realizing there is so much freedom and restoration available for them.
*****
OMG! THIS WAS EXACTLY WHAT I HAVE BEEN PRAYING FOR! And now it was here, and all the obstacles that seemed so insurmountable were being moved. After finishing reading this post, I just sat there reeling in near-shock but also feeling this anticipation like I’d never felt before, anticipation so intense my eyes filled with tears. THIS…was the next step of my journey.
I immediately banged out an email to Kate. Here is part of it:
All day my mind kept bringing up these potential horror-movie scenarios (maybe because it’s Halloween?) — being hypnotized, being drugged, being brainwashed, being taken alone into a little room and feeling scared to death, completely OUT OF CONTROL! Being re-traumatized in some unknown manner, or getting there and finding out that HeartSync is something other than what it says it is. It’s probably just my hypervigilance due to PTSD but it just all seemed too good to be true and that scared me.
So I knew I needed to do some more digging. I found quite a bit of information on Google and some testimonials. Wow, it does sound like exactly what I’ve been searching for. Sometimes during mass I get a bit teary eyed and definitely feel the presence of the Holy Spirit, but then it’s all over. It doesn’t really last for any length of time. For a year, I’ve been in therapy to reconnect with my emotions (many of which I had shut off because they were too painful or I was shamed out of feeling them — as I already described to you on the phone). It’s helping but it’s a long slow process. It can be frustrating and of course, it doesn’t address my relationship with God/Jesus, which is shaky at best.
Although I’m closer to God than I ever was, I often feel disconnected or untrusting of Him too. Why should I trust God when even my own family could not be trusted? When He allowed me to spend 25 years with a cruel man who almost destroyed my soul? Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t listen or doesn’t care. I question my faith a lot. Other times I feel God’s presence and love, but as if from a distance. It’s as if my entire heart can’t handle it or is still partly closed off. So when I read some of these testimonies — this seems like a somewhat charismatic healing process?– I started to feel very excited! A little scared, but scared in a good way and mostly excited. I NEED to have that intense emotional spiritual experience! I need to really feel myself being loved unconditionally by Jesus, held in his arms and allow His love to change me. I think this is the answer I’ve been looking for.
God sometimes comes through in small, unexpected ways when we appeal to him for help. I think he appoints certain people to serve as angels right here on earth. A dear friend of mine, active for a long time on this blog, empathized with my problems coping with Seasonal Affective Disorder, and offered to purchase me a light therapy lamp, knowing I could not afford one. (They aren’t cheap). I burst into tears of gratitude when she told me she was buying me one. She didn’t want me to pay her back either.
Yesterday I got my package from Amazon. At first I couldn’t imagine why I was getting a package, since I haven’t ordered anything recently. I had forgotten about the light therapy lamp. But then I remembered, and excitedly opened the package.
It’s a handsome streamlined model, portable, perfect for propping up next to me while I write on my blog. It also makes a terrific reading light.
There really are angels among us. You just never know how God will come through. I’m also taking Melatonin (which regulates the sleep cycle) and St. Johns Wart (a natural herbal antidepressant). Two new front tires on my car so I don’t have to worry about sliding all over the roads when the ice and snow starts, and I’m good to go.
I’ll let you all know how this regimen works on my SAD.
Here are two photos of my new light (closed and open).
In my life, I’ve rarely experienced true happiness, of the kind I experienced during the week of August 21, when I was on the Florida Gulf coast visiting my son. I wrote a lot on this blog about the experience I had while basking in the warm Gulf waters and exploring the beaches and gazing at the unbelievable sunsets, and just being able to relax, forget my worries, and spend time with an almost 25 year old man who I love with a fierceness I reserve for very, very few people. I felt very close to the divine during that time. Even the 700 mile road trip going there and back was a sort of spiritual experience for me. Everything about that week was perfect. I never felt so much at peace with myself and the world. I felt somehow changed.
It occurred to me today that this weekend will be a month (4 weeks) since I began my vacation. It’s a cherished memory now (and one that changed me in some profound way), but is now receding ever deeper into the past, joining the other few happy memories I have, most which happened much longer ago than this. The memory is probably far enough in the past now that it’s no longer part of my short term memory but has now entered my long term memory.
While I’m grateful beyond words that I got to have this amazing experience, and know it won’t be the last time (I’m tentatively planning to return at the end of March), I feel a deep sadness that it’s over tinged with a kind of yearning to return there forever. Not so much because I miss the location of where I was, or even that I miss being in close proximity to my son (though I miss those things too), but the feeling of pure joy I had unfettered by anything else. Rarely have I felt that kind of joy and lightness, and when I have, it’s been fleeting, like the momentary reflection of the sun on a dragonfly’s wings.
It’s been said that you can’t feel sadness without having known what happiness felt like. Sadness is about loss. In my case the loss of that deep, pure joy is bringing me into contact with the abyss of emptiness that still lives deep inside me, heavy and dark and cold, like a barren wasteland in which a chill wind always howls and it’s always winter and where nothing ever grows.
I tried praying about it, for I know it was really feeling close to the divine that made me feel so full of joy, not the actual surroundings, but it was just so much easier when I was away. It’s hard to get that feeling back. I look around my surroundings here and am reminded of how much I hate this time of year when the days are growing shorter and the nights longer, and nature’s beginning to look tired and spent before going to sleep again for another winter. Being here, without the sun and the sea and the sand, so far inland, back in the daily grind of real life, just reminds me of all the heartbreaks and losses and disappointments and hurts that have contaminated my life and pockmarked my soul full of raw and gaping holes.
This feeling of sad emptiness is very hard to explain. I do suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) so that might have something to do with it, but I go through that every year. This is different. I feel like I’ve suffered a terrible loss, like a death, and like there’s no way I’ll ever feel that kind of joy again. I want to so badly and I know I will, but right now it feels like it’s forever gone.
I imagine normal people feel that kind of joy more often, even if they don’t all the time. I know I need to find a way to feel that lightness of spirit no matter where I am, but at the moment, I’m overwhelmed with this terrible nostalgia and sadness because my memory of that perfect week is no longer that recent and is quickly receding into the distant past, where details are forgotten or corrupted by other memories. For that one week, it seemed as if the emptiness inside me was filled for a change; now it’s just empty again.
I always knew the emptiness was there, but I was so emotionally numb and so used to it that I regarded it as normal. I didn’t really think about it; it was just always there. Now it’s nearly unbearable. It could mean that I’m close to diving into the void because it seems so much nearer than it ever did before. Maybe I’m closer to it because so many of my usual defenses have fallen away. Maybe tomorrow night’s session will be an interesting one; I’ve noticed that just before a breakthrough I become more depressed than usual.
I called my therapist crying today and left a long message about how overwhelmed I felt by this spiritual and emotional barrenness. I’ll be seeing him tomorrow; I guess we need to talk about it. I got a small taste of what it’s like to be mentally and spiritually alive and healthy, without any disorders, but the downside of that is that once you’ve seen heaven, reality seems like hell.
My MN ex may have cancer. He’s been coughing up blood a lot and has been a heavy smoker for years, and also smokes a lot of weed too. He’s also been losing a lot of weight. He tells my daughter he doesn’t think he has much time left.
He’s covered by Medicare (SSDI), but he’s terrified to go see a doctor. I don’t blame him actually. I’d be terrified too.
He told my daughter if he has cancer, he just wants to let nature take its course and doesn’t want treatment. He’s a very high spectrum malignant narcissist, but he hates himself and his life. What he lives is not a life, it’s an existence. He’s just marking time until death, and he’s not even that old (he’s 55, but looks 70).
Although I can’t stand him anymore and refuse to have further contact with him, this development makes me feel very sad. It makes me sad that he allowed his own narcissism to destroy him (as well as almost destroy the people who loved him, including our children). It makes me sad that he’s isolated himself from his family by driving the people who loved him away, one by one–and will probably die all alone with no one to really care. His parents are both dead and he has no other close relatives.
It makes me sad that he, like my mother, will most likely die without ever being free of his narcissistic prison. I am praying for him because although I don’t like him, I know he’s living in a self imposed hell of his own making and his life is without any joy or lightness or love or hope. He’s the most negative person I’ve ever met.
I would love to see him at least become self aware enough to make amends to both his children, and realize that what’s happened to him is his own doing, not the fault of those who were close to him. Not because I want to see him suffer the pain of self-discovery (I’m not a spiteful person seeking revenge), but because I feel like that could possibly redeem him in God’s eyes, even if it’s at the 11th hour.
No, he doesn’t have enough time to be cured of NPD (or ASPD, or whatever he actually has), because that can take years that I don’t think he has, but at least some kind of redemption may be possible and he can have a moment to reconcile with his family before he finally shucks off this mortal coil.
I would also love to see him accept the love of Christ and allow himself to be comforted in His arms during his last moments. He needs that so badly. I’ve felt the love of Christ very keenly lately, and when I feel overwhelmed or discouraged or depressed, I ask Him to take me in his arms, and I can feel that he really does and that brings me great comfort. I felt his presence strongly during my spiritual awakening (of sorts) in the Gulf of Mexico a couple of weeks ago. I feel it whenever I fall onto my bed and weep after therapy, and he just rocks me and holds me like the parent I always wanted and tells me everything will be alright. He was always there but I refused to see.
My daughter does still speak to her father sometimes, but after stealing all her money last month, there’s definitely a rift between them now, and she’s starting to realize what sort of person he really is and that he’s utterly incapable of loving anyone. He told her he wants her to have a baby before he dies so he can have a grandchild for a short time, but she’s smart enough to not do that until she’s actually married (she’s with a very good man now who I think might be “the one”–and there are no red flags that I can see).
Maybe this man, being so physically ill (even though there’s no proof it’s cancer it probably is), will begin to look at himself in a different light and begin to develop some self-awareness. I’m praying, and I know God listens. So I’m not without hope that at least that could happen.
I went back to the beach this morning (I finally got up early), and the tide was the lowest I’ve seen it, and it was still going out. Sandbars stretched pretty far into what was covered over by water the day before yesterday, leaving bathwater-hot tidal pools filled with small tan fish (probably minnows), skeins of green-brown seaweed, and tiny hermit crabs. I put my things down on the dry part of the beach and waded out, deliberately stepping in the warm pools and feeling the soft silty sand along the way. Dragonflies flitted back and forth, probably looking for mosquitoes for brunch. The only annoying thing was the many biting sand-flies, which tried to eat up my legs (why didn’t the dragonflies go after those?) But as soon as I’d waded far enough where no more sand was exposed, the biting flies disappeared.
I found a nice spot that wasn’t too mushy (some of the sand here is VERY soft, reminding me of quicksand, so I had to be mindful of that) and fairly free of seaweed. I settled into the slightly cooler water there, which only came up to my waist when I sat down in it.
At first there was no one else but me on the beach. I felt like I was the only person on earth. The sky was a bright blue dome, darkening to almost indigo toward its center, with white puffy cumulus clouds lining the edges against the horizon like lace trim. The water was clear and reflected the blue of the sky. I had waded so far out that I was surrounded on every side by barely moving but ever-changing water. I could tell the tide was still going out by the direction of the tiny ripples, and I kept having to move farther in to stay immersed. I looked back at where I’d laid my things on the beach and could barely see them anymore. I was very far out! I decided not to go any further because I didn’t want to lose sight of my things, even though it looked like the very shallow water went out quite a ways. I also didn’t want to be stuck any farther out if the tide suddenly came in.
I laid down in the water and dug my toes into the wonderful fine sand. I put my hands behind my head and let my elbows rest in the sand, propping my head up so I could see. It was clouding up just a little, and they looked so close overhead I felt like I could reach out and touch them. I heard gulls overhead and way in the distance, I could hear the rumble of a motorboat. I stretched out my arms and legs and just let myself float, tempted to shout to the sky about how great God is and what an incredible gift this trip has been for me, and how blessed I am to be in this healing place right now.
Mindful of my things on the beach and not wanting to drift too far away, I got myself back in a seated position and played with the sand again, rubbing it all over me the way I did two days ago. I decided to give myself a facial (that’s how soft this sand is!) so I plastered some of it on my face, let it dry a little, and then washed it off in the slightly salty water (Gulf water is less salty than ocean water). A few other people were visible here and there now, wading in the tidal pools or sitting in the shallow water. A young couple obviously in love embraced not too far away. Maybe they were on their honeymoon. I hoped things worked out for them.
It was getting hotter and there were more people now, including some kids with plastic buckets and shovels collecting shells and hermit crabs. These kids and their equipment triggered a memory of myself as a mosquito-bitten, golden-tanned and skinny 8 year old, exploring a similar beach much farther north where my parents had rented a vacation cottage for two weeks. That beach was off Cape Cod Bay in Massachusetts, where I remembered the sandbars had stretched out even further into the distance–so far that the deeper water was only a thin dark blue line against the horizon. I remembered playing out there for hours, collecting hermit crabs in my orange plastic bucket and then setting them free, and how fast the incoming tide had moved–so fast my friends and I used to try to race it in. I recalled sunsets seen from our screened in porch, painting the tidal pools pink and orange, and the smell of citronella and the sound of the bug zapper as the armies of mosquitoes dodged into it. Memories of that distant summer fused with the here and now, and time itself seemed to stop. I was still that child, yes–more wounded and damaged, but still essentially intact under my armor born of pain; still curious about everything and still in love with the wonders of the natural world. A child who still possessed the ability to give and receive love. I always wanted to go back to that place; now I’m here instead.
Sandbars off Cape Cod Bay, Brewster, Massachusetts
I had no idea how long I remained out there. It seemed like a very long time. I could have stayed in that heavenly spot all day, but being so fair skinned, I knew I should probably head back to the car before I got too sunburned.
I wanted to get up early and walk on the beach at sunrise, but I guess I was so exhausted from my long drive yesterday and busy evening (also stayed up late blogging about it and chatting with my son) that my body needed extra sleep, and I didn’t get up until about 1 PM!
No worries though. My son has to work all night tonight so he was still asleep too. I quietly ate some cereal and headed out. I decided to go back to Rees Park, where we witnessed the sun set last night. I felt like it was calling me back. This time I had the presence of mind to wear a swimsuit.
The day was hot, very hot–95 degrees and very sunny. I drove to Rees Park and immediately smelled the ocean smell and felt the soothing sea breeze, making it seem cooler. I noticed that unlike last night when we were there, the tide was coming in. There were no sandbars and there were very small waves (really, more like ripples), and a lot less of the beach was visible. Banks of puffy white clouds dotted the horizon against the bright, almost electric blue of the sky.
I took off my sandals and stepped into the water. It was as warm as bathwater! So unlike the ocean water further north, even as far south as Myrtle Beach. Of course, this was the Gulf, a smaller body of water than the Atlantic Ocean, so that probably had a lot to do with the very warm temperature.
I waded out into the water, and when I looked down, I saw small schools of tan colored fish swimming around my feet. I squeezed my toes into the very fine, silt-like sand, an lowered myself into the water. It was like sinking into a bathtub, only so much better.
I closed my eyes and used the rest of my senses to feel nature around me. I felt the ripples gently rocking me, and I just let my body respond to that, rolling over and floating and stretching every part of me that could be stretched. I breathed in the salty air and listened to the seagulls on the shore. I scooped up some of the silt-like sand into my hands, and squeezed the water out of it until the claylike substance squeezed out between my fingers and left a small ball in my hands. I looked at it and could see many tiny shells and fragments of shells studded throughout the ball. It felt so nice in my hands I decided to rub it all over my arms and then lifted my legs out of the water and rubbed some of it on those too.
I looked around me and saw a few other people, also just relaxing and enjoying nature. I had a short conversation with a woman lying in the water nearby, who was visiting her mother. She said this was better than going to a spa, and I agreed.
I just sat there, not caring that the tide was now getting dangerously close to where I’d laid my things. I looked down into the clear greenish water and then looked out where it seemed to stretch out into infinity, becoming dark blue as it receded into the distance. I looked down again and there were those little fish swimming all around me, as if protecting me. I looked back at the beach and gazed at the palm trees and listened to the hissing of their fronds in the gentle breeze. For a rare moment, I was completely in the moment, not worrying about the future or fretting over something in the past. I just was me, just a part of nature. Not my ego or my achievements or my failures or my fear or my anger or my shame. Just me.
I felt the healing energy of the sun, sand and water that cradled me, and realized that this was all God’s doing. It wasn’t the water rocking and comforting me, it was God holding me gently and using the warm water to do that. I never felt like I got that from my family or anyone else I loved, but God has always been there, always ready to hold and comfort me. All I had to do was ask and be open to it. I felt a lump of gratitude form in my throat and thanked him for bringing me to this place. Through grace, I knew I would be healed, that one day my mental disorders would be a thing of the past.
When I got back to the apartment, I found out an answer to an earlier prayer was answered favorably. I think that has everything to do with what I found out on the beach today.
God keeps sending me all these little gifts and surprises that are becoming proof to me that he listens and cares. I’ve written about a few of these before. A few others are too hard to explain so I haven’t talked about them. Another one happened today, sort of a big one.
Katie from Dreams of a Better World blog and I have been having a lot of discussions (in the comments) about the nature of suffering and what it means. She’s also written some excellent and moving blog posts about it. A whole book could be written about this topic (and maybe has), but here’s the short version of what we both think suffering means.
God doesn’t cause us to suffer or make bad things happen. He isn’t a big bully in the sky. But he allows those things to happen and asks us to trust him when life looks hopeless. He uses those things so we learn to lean on him, and then he will begin to show us in small ways that he is there, and that increases faith.
What happened today seems like a dream, but I think it’s the beginning of a spiritual awakening…maybe. Time will tell. I know I’m changing, and they are all good changes. I don’t think these changes would be happening without God and the reason why things never changed before, was because I wasn’t ready to trust him or lean on him yet. I was still too proud and too suspicious and untrusting and skeptical because of my past. But you need to lean in completely and just let go. But that came later.
You reach a spiritual low that can go no further, in our cases caused by prolonged abuse, and one day we realize we must fight to survive. But we’re so weak and beaten down, how can we fight? But we do. We get angry at first, and rage and pound our fists against the walls and at the sky and maybe at God himself. But soon the angry fires burn themselves out and are replaced with a sort of openness. I can’t explain this openness but it happens after the anger. It’s like you’re empty and waiting. Waiting for what, you don’t know. You’re exhausted.
If you’re a writer, you start to write. Katie and are both write and that’s the tool God has given us to draw us closer to him, and to help us make sense of what happened to us. So we started blogs. For someone else, it might be art or music. Creativity is very close to spirituality, and it is given to us through grace.
That’s when God steps in.
And then everything begins to change.
Getting back to the conversation Katie and I were having in the comments about suffering, I decided to go to Mass today. I never go on Saturday but something told me to go today. The homily was about–
You guessed it. The nature of suffering and how God uses it to humble us and mold us into who he wants us to be.
I couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. I felt my heart open. Wiping away tears, I looked up at Jesus on the cross and whispered thank you.
After a lifetime of not knowing what I was put here for or what I wanted to do, and not being passionate about much of anything, the clouds are finally beginning to clear and some kind of plan is coming together for the rest of my life, and it’s nothing I could have ever dreamed up myself.
Whenever I tried to make choices without God, I always made the wrong ones and was back to where I started or worse. But now, I’m finally starting to see the path that God has laid out for me, because my faith is growing. And it’s the little miracles like what happened today that are helping with that.
There’s something almost otherworldly about driving alone in the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn when the sky is still dark and full of stars. It’s a zen-like experience: the world is silent as it still sleeps, the stores are still dark and locked up for the night, and the highway stretches before you, tapering into a point on the horizon that seems like forever. It’s so quiet you can hear the wheels sing as they progress along on the road. You feel like you’re all alone in the world, but you’re not lonely. There’s just this silence and peaceful solitude, a quiet time to just center yourself and talk to God. It’s a spiritual time; a time to just be.
In about an hour I will be going to sleep. I’m already packed for my 700 mile road trip which will begin at about 4 AM. That’s about three hours before the sky even begins to lighten, since the days are getting noticeably shorter now. By 7 AM, when the sun begins to paint the sky with pink and violet, I’ll already be about 250 miles from here, somewhere near Columbia, South Carolina. Then the world will be waking up and I’ll be thinking about more worldly things, like what I’m going to eat for breakfast–McDonalds or a gas station muffin? I’ll be thinking all about the great time I’m going to have next week and the fun things I will be doing. But I also think this trip is going to prove to be a healing thing for me, a time to reflect, since my son has to work for part of the week and I’ll be spending a lot of time alone by the ocean.
I’ll be taking my laptop with me and posting all about the adventures I have next week, so you’ll still be seeing me around. I’ll probably take a lot of pictures too 🙂
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