as the confusion stormed out of her twisted mouth.
there in my pink office, pink for safety and comfort and womb-like embrace, she sat stiff on my couch. talking. talking. talking.
i waited. asked questions. clarified. her forehead was creased with anxious wrinkles. her mouth was a hard line of reasoning.
this is what i do. i ask questions. then i pray. then i ask again.
she talked, and i let her.
time passed. i sensed the anger swirl around her like a storm. asked gently, but pointedly, if she was willing to give that anger away.
so we prayed. and then the heavy tears came.
and the deep memories.
and the flood of pain that poured out of the dark places where she believed she was useless, dumb, nothing.
an arching banner of lies over her life.
lifted up to HIM who cannot lie.
and slowly, bit by bit, truth came.
her face changed. i watched it change.
i watched her whisper to the little lost girl inside, tell her she was loved, tell her it's ok.
and tears stung my eyes too.
and the lines and the wrinkles and the hard edges of her face softened, and she opened her eyes and looked at me with a childlike peace.
and this is why i do what i do.
because HE heals.