Cleansing...

I'd just gotten in the car after checking our dogs for ticks. We live in the middle of a pretty woodsy area so this occurrence is a given. The four of them don't have oppose-able thumbs and thus it falls to me to help.

I can't help but feel disgusting after dealing with the parasites, but also fulfilled that I've helped alleviate some of the irritants the pups have to deal with. I don't like to touch anything afterwards til I can wash my hands, but I wasn't able to get to a sink at that moment.

I was also hurting deeply from a breakup that had just happened three days before. As I sat down in my car, I started talking out loud, letting myself hear affirmation and processing things verbally.

Things change and so do people, that's a part of life. And they forget...that's also part of being alive. But sometimes they remember, and that's what makes life worth living..."

But then a very soft and hidden part of my heart whispered:

But why do I have to be forgotten?

And I started crying, in earnest. It hurt. in the very deepest, secret arrow wound in my identity...it has always seemed to easy to not be needed anymore or forgotten over time, by those who said they wouldn't. I just don't fully understand the emotional aspect of the laws of entropy in relationships, yet. I then whispered out loud:

"It hurts, Lord...please...help."

and heard very clearly in my spirit:

"Use your tears to wash your hands."

And I did. I wept, gut-wracking sobs that burned my face and rendered me weak and breathing hard at the end...letting those hot, painful tears fall on my hands, bathing them and letting my sorrow cleanse them for more service.

This is the legacy of the wounded healer. In the still and quiet that follows any storm of emotions...I remembered what and who I am in this life...and I am not afraid.