Cold Feet and Scratching

The first thing on my mind right now is that my feet are cold. No, not cold... freezing. I think I'll go find my ski socks. Be right back...

Better. Now... the second thing on my mind is much more complicated and less easily fixed. Place and Story.

Chris has been listening to a sermon series on the theology of place. It's complicated and more than I can explain in a paragraph, but very simply put, it means live WHERE YOU ARE. It means if you live in a town, minister in that town. If you work someplace, minister in that place. Shop in your own town from stores that are local. Put your money into your local economy. Stop looking into the distance and living for a theoretical future. Live now, where you are.

Story. God has been gently pulling me to a place where I can confront my own story. There are things in my childhood I have never faced. Things that scare me. Things I ignore. When asked if there were any traumatic events in my childhood, I used to always say no, it was normal, happy even. When Gordon (my Christian counselor) asked me, the Holy Spirit brought several things to mind. Not good things.

Why now? Why can't I keep ignoring it? I dunno. The sermon Sunday night provoked a thought about my childhood. I heard someone, just this week, bring up the title of a Dan Allender book that Gordon recommended two years. I decided to pick up the new Bible study Chris got me for the wives of church-planters. First chapter: The Myths of Story. *sigh*

To quote: "It is our belief that the more we know and become familiar with our own stories, developing self-awareness and healthy critical thinking, the more we have the capacity to know God and his story. When we truly see our pasts for what they are, then we can begin to understand how we have sought to bring peace into our lives apart from relying on Christ. We begin to see where we have created idols to give us a false sense of hope and comfort. We being to see how we relate to others apart from relying on Christ. ... The more we open doors to our past, the more freedom we encounter. It is this freedom that draws others to the life-giving hope we possess."

*sigh*

I started a Word doc to track my memories. Some of the things I have recorded are messed up. Some are happy. But I get the distinct feeling that I am scratching at a rough patch of skin that could rupture at any time. That maybe there's some really f'ed up stuff under there. Stuff I am afraid that I'll never be able to make sense of. Is that really better than ignoring it?

I guess we'll find out. I think I'll go scratch at it a little while longer.