On Restoration and Wholesomeness

Constance, I recently read something online that perturbed me greatly.

“I firmly believe what someone in one of the posts above has said- a human being can never be wholesome again after an experience of this sort. My grandfather, a resilient, hard-working man who faced adversity and difficult migrations more times than most, was never truly whole; he was bitter, angry, mad. He succeeded in life by cheating and deceiving others much like what had been done to him. He was not a caring husband or father and left many questions unanswered. I sometimes wonder if one can really cleanse oneself of evil. In the words of Primo Levi’s ‘Shema’…

Consider that such horrors have been:
I commend these words to you.
Engrave them in your hearts
when you lounge in your house,
when you walk outside,
when you go to bed,
when you rise.
Repeat them to your children,
or may your house crumble
and disease render you helpless
so that even your offspring avert their faces from you.”

WOW…powerful writing, no?  Moving, rending in the soul…tumblr_nlfdl6quMU1rel1ijo1_540

…and yet.  And yet…REALLY?

Is it true that one can never be whole after an experience of this sort?  A person was bitter, angry, mad, and “succeeded” in life by doing to others what was done to him.

Here is what is disturbing:  what this person chose to do, based on what happened, is the root of the bitterness, anger and madness.

There is never a point where we cease to be culpable for what we choose…because we are always choosers.

Otherwise, explain to me how other human beings who suffered identical horrors and worse emerged and became whole again and wholesome in life…Victor Frankl, Corrie Ten Boom are two that come to mind.

You are not in control of what happens to you…you are in control of how you choose to happen in return to it!tumblr_mxg4a0SSTf1shqs68o1_500

Otherwise, here is your alternative:

At what point do you cease to be responsible?  Like for instance, you are beaten up in the body, but not hit in the face…are you culpable for what you choose, or are you now not responsible, being beyond the pale of wholesomeness?

If you suffer the loss of a parent but not a child, does that make you not responsible?  Or more responsible?

It’s a sliding scale and no one knows where to draw the line…because the fact is there is no line!

There is only you…and your choice in who you want to be, live to be.

I am gonna tell you sumfin:  no one can sully me by doing evil to me.  Oh, they can beat me, they can rape me, they can hurt me with words…but I am a strong tower inviolate, so long as I know that I am a chooser and this is mine forever.

A diamond covered in bull shit does not cease to be a diamond…and a person buried in horror can still choose to be shining and human.tumblr_nmhqwiXuLT1rebxsto1_1280

Do not seduce yourself with some rinky dinky scale of wrong, and pick a point somewhere on it that says “on this side of the scale, I am responsible, but because of these other things, I am no longer responsible because I cannot ever cleanse myself of evil”…

…cleanse yourself, no…but be cleansed?  Yes.

Are we not humans?  Are we not free?  Even midst the horrors shall we sing of our love.

Charissa

PS:  My dear Dani over at Blooming Spiders writes an article about a person who experienced lots of hard and horrible things, and what happened as a result of choices:  made and unmade.  Go check her out…you won’t be sorry!

❤ you, DDH!!tumblr_nmynbt9rGm1u19ezpo1_400

 

Robbed No More

The thief had tightened his bright red cawl
over his dusky-dim face of shadows.
Sneaking snaky-quick past slumbering guards
awash in smoky-hazy
maisy lazy thoughts
(and assumptions)
he stole to the cradle and breathed
ice and death in stark puffs.
And then he touched what was not his
and rent eternity bloody within.

I have screamed for 5 decades
WRONG WRONG WRONG!
The tear, jagged and oozing in my soul
gapes, stupid and dull and empty like
that cradle was, ever after.

But Grace has been walking,
from then forward to now,
a gryphon on steady paws
beating breaths of golden Life
to the ever-ache within.

She, with unveiled face and shining glad,
has caressed, crossed
the vast and rheumy spaces
with Promise and Her Red and blazing
tender love to ease my throat,
my heart,
to  transform
that empty achy cradle
into a vacant tomb…

and let my voice now say
in thankful praise

ENOUGH

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