You'll heal over someday ...
Alyssa Huntley
Issue date: 11/11/09 Section: Religion
This weekend contained yet another journey home by a homesick Mount sophomore.
I drove back to Connecticut to visit with my family for a few days and returned to the mountain Sunday night. I figured it would be a simple weekend with the only major event being my youngest brother's birthday party.
Still, a short weekend held a few pleasant little surprises. To begin with, I was welcomed by my mother telling me she had received all of her post-treatment test results. She is now 100% cancer free! Talk about relief!
In addition, I was able to see all of my baby cousins, each helping to remedy my homesickness one hug at a time. My entire family was over for the birthday celebration Sunday afternoon.
The strangest part of the weekend, however, was right before I left. I was packing up my car, and the feeling started; that strange, "I don't want to go, you can't make me" feeling. Last year it wasn't always so bad, but this year the combination of a much busier schedule, lack of sleep, and little cousins who won't stop growing seems to have made it harder to leave.
I was doing fine, saying goodbye to my boyfriend Nick, and thought that this trip back to school would be easier. I went downstairs, took one look at my mom, and knew it wouldn't. The tears came. I hate crying. I focused on making it stop and as soon as I gained my composure I walked out of the door, Nick following behind.
I quickly apologized for my crying. He assured me it was okay and told me to just cry. Plenty of people have told me this before, but I've resisted as much as I could. Sunday night, I couldn't. I stood by my car crying until I had no time left to spare.
I got back to school, not really knowing what to make of my seemingly foolish emotions. I thought on the weekend and realized something. I was slowly starting to heal. Just as my mother was healed from her cancer, I was in need of some internal healing myself.
It's not okay to hold it all in. I've kept myself from crying for eighteen years and apparently I can't do that anymore. In the end it's what I needed. If I don't cry, I turn cold and that feeling is forced on those around me. I needed to realize that there are people who won't think differently of me if I just need to cry.
Throughout her treatment, my mother cried in my arms plenty of times. She went through a time when she thought she could do it all on her own. Of course, she couldn't. Eventually she gave into the advice of her doctors and comfort from others. It took time, but the healing came.
The same can work in our spiritual lives. Every so often we need to step back and look at where we're headed. We need to take the time to see what needs to be fixed in our spirituality and what is going well. Through prayer or just simply taking time in silence to look at our lives, Christ can help us to heal. We may not have all of the answers, but with trust in God we can make it through. "For I will restore you to health; of your wounds I will heal you, says the LORD." [Jer. 30:17]
I drove back to Connecticut to visit with my family for a few days and returned to the mountain Sunday night. I figured it would be a simple weekend with the only major event being my youngest brother's birthday party.
Still, a short weekend held a few pleasant little surprises. To begin with, I was welcomed by my mother telling me she had received all of her post-treatment test results. She is now 100% cancer free! Talk about relief!
In addition, I was able to see all of my baby cousins, each helping to remedy my homesickness one hug at a time. My entire family was over for the birthday celebration Sunday afternoon.
The strangest part of the weekend, however, was right before I left. I was packing up my car, and the feeling started; that strange, "I don't want to go, you can't make me" feeling. Last year it wasn't always so bad, but this year the combination of a much busier schedule, lack of sleep, and little cousins who won't stop growing seems to have made it harder to leave.
I was doing fine, saying goodbye to my boyfriend Nick, and thought that this trip back to school would be easier. I went downstairs, took one look at my mom, and knew it wouldn't. The tears came. I hate crying. I focused on making it stop and as soon as I gained my composure I walked out of the door, Nick following behind.
I quickly apologized for my crying. He assured me it was okay and told me to just cry. Plenty of people have told me this before, but I've resisted as much as I could. Sunday night, I couldn't. I stood by my car crying until I had no time left to spare.
I got back to school, not really knowing what to make of my seemingly foolish emotions. I thought on the weekend and realized something. I was slowly starting to heal. Just as my mother was healed from her cancer, I was in need of some internal healing myself.
It's not okay to hold it all in. I've kept myself from crying for eighteen years and apparently I can't do that anymore. In the end it's what I needed. If I don't cry, I turn cold and that feeling is forced on those around me. I needed to realize that there are people who won't think differently of me if I just need to cry.
Throughout her treatment, my mother cried in my arms plenty of times. She went through a time when she thought she could do it all on her own. Of course, she couldn't. Eventually she gave into the advice of her doctors and comfort from others. It took time, but the healing came.
The same can work in our spiritual lives. Every so often we need to step back and look at where we're headed. We need to take the time to see what needs to be fixed in our spirituality and what is going well. Through prayer or just simply taking time in silence to look at our lives, Christ can help us to heal. We may not have all of the answers, but with trust in God we can make it through. "For I will restore you to health; of your wounds I will heal you, says the LORD." [Jer. 30:17]
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