Holes...

I have found that writing about my life for people to read is like a catharsis, it is a catalyst for change within me. A weight lifts when I realize that my secrets aren’t secrets anymore. God knows everything that I think, but sometimes that isn’t enough. Sometimes I need to let things out for the world to see (and when I say world, I mean the 5 people who have subscribed to my blog). It helps me to heal.

Healing isn’t easy. When something hurts, and leaves an impression. I was once told a story in relation to healing. I was told that if you pound a nail into a board, there is a hole. When you turn the hammer around and wrench the nail free, there is still a hole. When a person is hurt, the nail is driven into them, when you realize you hurt someone, and pull it out, the hole is still there.

That is hard for me to understand. I was raised to believe in forgiving and forgetting. I was raised to believe that once you’ve apologized or served penance or confessed to a deed, it was gone. Done. No longer your burden to bear. The same applies to the religion I claim, once I confess and ask forgiveness of my sin, Jesus forgives it and then my soul is wiped clean. It is gone. Done. No longer my burden to bear, it is Christ’s.

So why does it feel like those holes don’t close? That ach is still inside, an empty place where something belongs. After time, it may be that the emptiness is forgotten. But once your heart ventures back to that topic, the empty resurfaces and stretches out to its normal size.

People don’t heal like they are supposed to.

My grandfather is a proud man. He was a police officer, and later the captain of the police force in Ann Arbor. He calmed race riots and helped to solve the case of the Michigan Murder. He was in the army. He has pride. He has cancer.
He has claimed victory over cancer once before. He still has nightmares about the radiation. What holes will be born into my strong grandfather this time? Who does he forgive for this hurt? Who do we need to forgive? How will he heal?