Being a Wounded Healer

I am a wounded healer.  I have been a caregiver in some capacity all my life.  God has gifted me with the capacity to listen with a compassionate heart.  I use those gifts every day.

Recently, I posted the following on my Facebook account: Ham salad...check; deviled eggs...check.
I've hit a wall. I've refused to think about why I was preparing these foods. I'll go get a shower and let it all out. I'm tired of death. I'm tired of grieving. Ufdah. Love you all out there. God's solace is there for me, too. Please keep the Delk family in your prayers.   I was instructed by two things: (1) the limited response to that post that I received on Facebook and (2) the rousing response I received to that post off Facebook. 

As caregivers, we are strong.  Yet, also as caregivers, we are broken.  Part of supporting caregivers is allowing them to be wherever they are -- strong or broken or a little bit of both.  Be not surprised!

Over the last 8 weeks, I have lost three people who have been very deeply embeded in my heart.  The first was Lonnie, an older gentleman who had been a mentor and friend; the second was Wesley, a member of my dance community killed in a senseless act of violence; and the third was Lyman, an elder-emeritus at my church, a man who always had a kind, supportive word for me.  My grieving work has only just begun.

I have posted previously this summer about the importance of doing that work--the work of grieving.  Of allowing it all to be there, to come in its waves, and to recede.  Now comes the part of being a wounded healer.  I cannot separate the two.  I am wounded, yes.  Yet, I am a healer too.  I found myself three weeks ago desperately wanting to be able to separate those two, yet not really.  God has given me the ability to listen, to be present to others in their grief, to pray, to say what needs to be heard.  I simply cannot, at this time in my spiritual journey, say no to God.

God gifts us with abilities and desires us to use them as needed.  So even in our own grief, we can speak from a place of compassion for others--AND OURSELVES.  Even though we are healers, it is important for each and every caregiver to realize that compassion is there for us as well as those for whom we care.  God's perfect solace is there for others--AND OURSELVES, as we grieve the losses in our lives.  We must remember to open our hearts just a titch and allow that solace to seep into the  wounds we carry.

Yes, I am a caregiver.  I am a wounded healer.  I live. I love.  I lose.  I grieve.  I listen.  I pray.  God is there.  God is good.  All the time.

Grace abounds,
Daphne

My Lament for Wesley

Why?!  Why is the question on a lot of our hearts right now as we are reeling from the news.  Our friend and fellow-dancer Wesley Brown was shot and killed Saturday night.  It was stupid.  It was senseless.

Why?!  Our hearts are broken.  We are holding Kelly and Madeline close in our hearts, wishing for time to see them and hug them and be with them.

Why?!  Earlier this summer I wrote an article on the work of grieving; on the necessity of allowing that work to occur in us.  It is essential that we allow grief to wash over us when it comes and simply be with it.  Grief and grieving are cleansing and educational.  Mostly, grieving—especially at this point—is simply there, not to be ignored or set aside.

As an aspect of our grieving, we can allow our faith to spill over into doubt, into questioning.  Without doubt, we never get around to asking the difficult questions of God, of ourselves. 

Why?!  I find myself asking that age-old question of God: "Why, God, did you allow this to happen?  Why?!"

While in the grip of doubt, letting our anger out is cleansing.  There are safe ways of doing so, such as  journaling, praying, swinging a wiffle bat against a pillow or a sofa.  Even screaming at God!  God can take it.  I know I am angry with, of all things, Wesley's employers.  I'm angry that he had to work instead of come to Cumberland—where he would have been instead of in that store Saturday night!  I'm angry that a gang decided to retaliate in an outbreak of violence which spilled over and ended Wesley's life.

Grief and anger exist together in a tangled mess so many times.  This tangled mess could very well be the reason this "senseless" violence broke out to begin with—what were the members of this gang grieving? 

 And, yes, I am angry with God.  Very angry.  My private conversations with God over the last 48 hours have been filled with angry tears and demands to know, to understand.

Yet, as I have moved with my grief, the question has shifted.  Shifted to how.

How, God, am I to be with this?  I have faith that Wesley is in a better place right now, is resting and healing in the light of God.  Yet, his family – a young daughter and his beloved wife – are HERE without him.

How can I be of comfort and support to his family?

This is a healthy movement our souls can take in response to our grief.  Yet, even this healthy movement does not resolve the deep sadness and the ache of loss in my heart.  Only time will do so.

May the grace of God go with Wesley's family and friends through the coming days and weeks.

Grace does abound.