I’ve always had a thing for mementos, memories, souvenirs of good times that I press between pages in a book or place in a box rather than just inside my head. I can go months or even years without sifting through some of the boxes of keepsakes they hold, but if the mood strikes me just right I can break open the lid and pull memory after memory through my fingertips.
Different memories in their concrete forms reside in different containers or locations throughout my home, often times based on my readiness to sift.
There’s photos of the girls, my wedding album, or favorite pictures the eldest has drawn. They are close at hand for my immediate viewing pleasure, to be astonished at how quickly babies grow, or even how my husband’s eyes have taken on a deeper love, and his hair has become salt more than pepper.
I keep love notes my spouse has written me under my bed, and read through them often with smile after smile.
I have a box from my early twenties meshed with items gathered from my mom’s bedroom after her death. It has “Mine & Mom’s Memories” scrawled in Sharpie across the top, and is taped tightly with two layers of packing tape. It rests on a top shelf to be forgotten because of the pain it holds inside if its contents were released, but it sits there still. Unable to be tossed or thrown away forever, it sits in limbo holding everything inside.
Many of the memories I hold in my life sit in the recesses of my mind, in the back closet, on a dusty shelf. I hold on to them there, tightly bound under a thick layer of tape, labeled one way or another. I don’t want to open them, but I hold on to them none the less.
I found that I packaged the memories the tightest that hurt me the most. The sting of pain caused by another went into its own box, and then I put it away. Or so I thought. I think it had more of a tendency to hang like an albatross around my neck, or a shackle on my ankle keeping me forever tethered to the pain of my past.
As I transversed through my Christian walk I had but one desire, to please my Lord. Naturally an area I found that would draw me ever closer was through forgiveness. By forgiving those who had hurt me I could move forward in my life and in my relationship with Jesus.
Over the years I’ve realized that forgiveness is hard to initiate, but it’s even more difficult to walk in it consistently.
One area of many where I felt a broken relationship and spear of pain in my side was from my adolescence. While perhaps trivial to an outsider, it held great weight in my little world. I had decided long ago to forgive her, this young woman who had hurt me.
And I suppose I did just that. I forgave her. But an interesting thing about life is its complexity, the layers, the boxes inside of boxes on our shelves.
Today I was at the park with my girls, and I got in the tire swing with my three year old. She wanted to spin, and I set the tire in an initial roundabout motion. It caught the momentum and just kept going. I watched the world around us blur as we spun around, and round, and round. It didn’t seem we’d stop, and I began to feel ill. I had to purposefully plant my feet in the dirt to cease the spin we’d fallen into.
Hurt’s a lot like that. You let it get ahold of you, and then you move along in life trying to ignore it. You just spin round and round, the world blurs around you, and the past pain makes you sick. You might not even realize what it is that is spinning you so and bringing waves of nausea unexpected. You have to make an effort, kick your leg out to stop the spiral that affects you even as you’re unaware.
I found myself recently the recipient of a white flag, a hand reaching out to stop my spinning, my circular repetitions to get past a pain I unknowingly held close to my chest. I thought it was on a dusty shelf, but occasionally realized it might just be a weight around my neck or a chain on my ankle.
She wanted my forgiveness. I could offer it, or I could continue to hold my pain. Wait a minute?! Hadn’t I forgiven her already? I thought I had I suppose, but I was still holding on to the hurt, holding on to the pain she knew she had caused. She knew it, and I was surprised to see it caused her just as much distress, if not more, than it did myself.
When you hurt someone, or they have hurt you, something happens on a level that you can’t always see. You’re bound to one another in their regret and your hurt. You’re tethered to one another in remorse and pain. You’re connected by anger and defeat. Like how sexual sins bind souls together, the pain of maltreatment does much the same. The hurt connects you even when you don’t realize.
Yesterday I let it go. I unpacked the box, tore off the top and dumped out my hurt. I released the weight of the past pain. After twenty years I finally let it go. Completely.
Forgiveness is one step. Letting go of the pain and hurt caused is another. It wasn’t just a gift for her, but a gift for me as well.
As I mended the past and released the hold onto my memories of hurt I felt freedom. I let go of my fear of being hurt again. I let it all go. A weight was lifted in the spiritual realm that I didn’t even realize was there. I felt lighter, as if I could walk on air. I felt good. I still do.
I guess it’s never too late.
Scottie says
That’s good stuff
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you 🙂
Chasity says
Forgiveness is a tough point to arrive at. It can feel like that surrender will discredit the pain you’ve been through, but honestly, you’re not really through it if you’re holding on. You’re in it. I’m glad that both of you can be free of it.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Me too. I think fear, which is the biggest lie of all, held me back in some strange way. Now I’m bound no longer. Feels good. Thank you. I’m glad you read this one.
Denise says
Wow Brie.. You write a very thought provoking entry. And I love Chasity’s comment too. How easy it is to hold onto these negative feelings which sometimes lends itself to affirmation of our position. Thank you for sharing.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you. I’m always happy to share with others what I’m learning as I go 🙂
Philippians 3:13
Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead,