I met a woman this week who took her grief and made something beautiful from it. Hours and hours were spent, sanding wood- fitting the pieces together. "It saved me" she said, as we stood and looked. None of the wood was new- and none of it matched- but sanded and carefully woven together - all the pieces fit together to form a pattern that is unique as it is beautiful. The wood was not strained - so that all the grains showed clearly- creating a wonderful pattern. I wondered, as I looked, how many of her tears had fallen to be mixed with the sawdust and swept away. I admired- and she acknowledged - with a hint of remaining pain reflected in her eyes- "yes, it is beautiful"
I sat with a friend yesterday who is writing- and speaking- and taking the horrific experience she has been through and using it to give others a message of forgiveness and reconsilliation.
We laugh as we talk- and we weep...
In the presence of woman like this- there is strength and there is hope.
I wonder what it is that makes some people take this road, while others languish for years in unresolved grief and bitterness?
I have heard the reference to the wounded healer- the concept that the places where you are broken becomes the place of your strength.
I am awed and grateful to be in the presence of thesse wounded healers- to sit at their feet...