Yellow Ceiling Spots

There is a yellow spot on my ceiling in my living room. No it’s not from smoking. Although that would be a better story. Have you ever seen the episode of Modern family where Phil finds a yellow burn on the couch on Christmas morning? Netflix it now. He cancels Christmas until someone fesses up to smoking on the couch. He literally drags the tree out the sliding door onto the porch, while the kids cry and try to take responsibility, even though none of them did it. It is hilarious and true. (You don’t need to write me and tell me I shouldn’t be watching Modern Family, I watch it to know we are not alone on the crazy train.)

We all see things and assume the worst. I look up at ceiling from my couch and I assume that the yellow mark on the ceiling means that our ceiling is falling in and that one day I will be crushed by a bathtub from the second floor. I know. It’s morbid and crazy. Or perhaps I watch too much Rehab Addict or Modern Family. Either way I assume things that may or may not be true. Or I avoid what I know is true.

And what I know to be true today is that I suck at forgiving. Maybe there is a better word, but the thesaurus wanted me to say slurp. And forgiving doesn’t slurp anything. I am just not good at it. I am better at forgiving someone that did something to someone else. But when I have to forgive someone that hurt me, it feels insurmountable.  I want to dig my first grade heals in the playground and justify why I don’t need to forgive them. I want to shout it from the mountaintops or at least a very tall building, because who am I kidding I have never been to a mountain top and I am in no shape to climb one. Anyways, I want to shout it from a very high elevation the list of things this person did to me. How I was wounded so deeply by things that were said and the “sorry’s” that never came. I want others to turn their backs on this person and join me by digging their heels in the playground with me.

But this unforgiveness is heavy. Not like the “winter weight” I have put on. But more like the weighted blanket that my littlest girl sleeps under very night. Except this doesn’t calm me down, it tears at my bones and makes the most inner parts of me afraid and alone. It makes me brittle and broken.

I was a chaperone a few summers ago for my eldest high school camp. (I know, could I be any more of a helicopter parent?) (Actually, I had no idea where she was 95% of the time, so I am really good at keeping track of kids) I was there and heard this for the first time. Or maybe just HEARD it for the first time- that unforgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Okay, maybe they didn’t say “die” at church camp but that is what my heart heard.

I want the people that have hurt me deeply to feel the humiliation and weight of what I feel. Of what I wake up every day and carry around. I want my pain to be justified. I want freedom. But if I am honest I want it to come by someone else carrying the shame that I carry every morning when I wake up.

Yet I am learning. Slowly. This isn’t about this person. Or people. It is about me. It is about the sin in my own heart that I can’t let go of. It’s about the years of shame built up in my own lesions that this just reopens like wounds that are still healing.

That is what this is about. It is about taking ownership of your own crap before mulling around in someone else’s. It is about claiming your own baggage at the airport and not trying to make others take their own. They are not ready yet. They are not ready to open up what you are already dealing with. And that it ok. It is ok to begin to heal and to walk away. You don’t. I don’t, need everyone to understand me or like me to be ok. I need to be ok because I know that I am a messy work in progress just trying to figure out my truth.

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Comments

  1. I figure that if I get everything in my life wrong, but learning how to constantly walk in forgiveness then I would consider my life a success. When I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior in August 2005 I was walking in the air (think of the song, it’s beautiful and magical) in what is called the mystic experience. When God gradually revealed my sinful nature in a new perspective, I realized how much a mess I truly was. With new found courage of a love greater than anything I ever experienced or dreamed of I asked Him what my first lesson was. God simply and gently replied, “forgiveness”. OK. I can do that! Rubbing my hands together I realized I did not know how to or to whom. So I asked and He said, “Your mother”.
    Now that rubbed me the wrong way, like taking high grid sandpaper to sensitive parts of my skin. Right then I seriously considered denying Christ and reverting back to my sinful nature without a blink. A few months continued on, but the pull in my heart urged me to take on the endeavor of forgiving the person I despised most. A year and a half lulls on, sometimes I earnestly tried forgiving, others only half-hearted. Than one day it all clicked into motion and like the moment I accepted Christ into my life is how I felt when I finally forgave that woman in my heart! Our relationship is stronger now than I could have ever imagined and I can finally learn how to love.
    After that severe relenting on my part, I have learned that forgiving people frees up my soul, releases my burden, anxiety, and depression, and I may dare to admit that forgiving is easy! My advice is to forgive the one who has hurt you the most, even if that person is you.

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