I have a wound. It’s deep. It scabbed over, but the scab keeps getting torn off, and it bleeds. Sometimes it just seeps a little around the edges. Then it scabs over again. It never heals completely.
Every time I think it’s getting better, something rips off the scab. I cry out in pain.
But since I’ve had the wound for a long time, people don’t want to see it anymore. They don’t want to hear my pain. They want to forget about it.
They want me to forget too. Or at least not mention it. I definitely should never show any sign that it still hurts. I am supposed to act as though there is no wound. They don’t even want to see the band-aid I keep on it.
What I should do is cover it with something pretty so no one sees I have this ugly part of me that doesn’t heal.
They call it move on.
Get over it.
Go with the “new normal.”
There is no such thing as new normal. It’s a fallacy.
There is just keep on going when nothing will ever be normal again.
And I try. To look normal. And act normal.
Those closest to me are aware of the reality that my wound is still open and raw. They try to keep the scab dressed and covered. They buffer me with words and their own gentle touch.
But some days, some circumstances, pull the scab all the way off and the only thing left to do is cry.
I have learned to cry when those who expect me to “be normal” aren’t there. I even applaud my little successes of keeping the bandage on tightly enough that nothing of my pain seeps through the bandage, let alone the pretty covering.
I say with Job, “The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the Name of the LORD.” (Job 1:21).
I know God understands. His Son died. For me. And for you. He doesn’t mind my tears, my pain, my grief. He is here with me. He comforts me when the wound seeps slowly and when the scab is torn of and I must stand as though all is well.
In His time, in His way.
And He doesn’t expect me to be “normal.” Just faithful, trusting, and obedient. To Him. No one else.
He is the beauty I cover my wound with. He is the soothing balm that takes away the ugliness. So even on days when the wound is ugly, gaping, and raw, I pray He is what I let people see.