One Word 2010 Meets One Word 2011

I am already learning much about myself in this year with the one little word of heal.

I'm learning that healing is a pretty ugly process sometimes, hard and painful, but that it's one I don't have to walk alone.  That I need to give some of that to others, to make choices to let myself be carried.  (I'm also learning that I have way more of a problem with pride than I thought.  Even with those people who have some sense of the ugly parts of this journey, I hesitate to share the harder moments and days, not wanting to appear less than whole.)

I'm learning that if I hold on tightly, God sends lots of practice my way.  Almost a question, really, "Were you serious about healing?  What if it means walking through this? What about in this spot?  How long are you going to avoid that one?"  Lots and lots of practice, for which, to quote Susan, "I am alternately pissed off and grateful."

And I'm learning more about my one little word for 2010, that word that has become, I think, the overarching word for the rest of my life.  Story. 

I actually talked extensively about that word with someone the other day.  Someone who encouraged me that I am in fact finding my voice.  I'm learning to write my own story again, to not let anyone else author it.

Saturday night I watched the movie, The King's Speech and I was deeply struck by it.  I don't think I understood precisely which parts of my heart it so deeply touched until a friend posted on facebook that after seeing the movie, she spent the evening repeating to herself, "I have a voice."  I read that and was reminded of the conversation I'd had the day before - about finding my voice.  I was reminded that so much of my journey of story, and more so, so much of this journey of "heal" seems to be about precisely that - finding and trusting my own voice, not the voice that is expected of me by people around me, not the voice of others foisted upon me, but mine, the one that is mine, and that carries with it an understanding knowing of it's own story, as one that tells of a God who loves and heals and writes incredible stories.

Yes, I have friends who are trusted contributors and editors to my story (the bit from that last post I quoted from), but I'm discovering that I have the final say.  That it is mine and mine alone to value, and hear and live and to write.  I'm so thankful for the friends that have chosen to support me, to love me, to edit and contribute, but who also choose to hand me the pen, and remind me that this is mine to live and mine to write, and that it can and will be beautiful.