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I have been wounded. There are the big wounds that come in one fell blow.  And, yes, those are hard to deal with.  But they are over when they are over.

The wounds that I am really confused by are the little ones that keep on coming.  It’s the small slights, the not-inviteds, the turn-of-the-back, the exclusion-from-conversation, that really, Really, HURT!  They are the little foxes that spoil the vine. 

I had one of those this week, the little one that just got piled on other little ones.  For two days I wrestled with it.  A little angry, a lot hurt, quite a bit of confused.  What
do I do?  How do I handle this?  Why am I hurt?

I finally guarded some time to come before my King. 

“Set my heart right Lord. Search me and know me Lord and see if there is any wicked way in me and lead me to the truth everlasting.”

I learned a trick from Leanne Payne.  I close my eyes and picture myself before Christ.

That day I was a crumpled up mess of tears and all I could say at first was,

“It hurts, Abba.” 

Like my kids have done a hundred times with me

“Mom, I fell down and hurt my knee.”

I pick them up and settle them in my lap, a deep breath, a kiss and tender hands.  All the while their little legs reflect the cost of living; bruises, blood, scrapes and cuts.

Abba picked me up, settled me in his lap and listened.  I finally named the hurt – Rejection!

And when I named it I could see this person in my mind’s eye.  My anger swelled.  But I took that rejection and through forgiveness threw it to Christ on the Cross.  His dripping wounds received it, as though it happened just to him.  And then I listened.  I listened for the words of real truth that God is always sending to me.  Quietly the Holy Spirit sent the answer.

“There is no rejection I have not felt.  There is no betrayal that hasn’t come my way.  I can bear this, so let it go. Come to me you who are heavy with burden and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke, my covering on you, learn from me.  There is no thing, no rejection, no statement, no action or reaction that can take you out of my hand.  You are mine and I am yours.  Rise daughter of the Living King, all that you need is found with me.”

And I did. I arose, robed in white, fitted with armor.  Strong again… healed… restored.

And I found out how to handle the little foxes.  I just keep bringing them to my daddy and simply saying; “It hurts” and then… I listen!

© Cheryl Meakins 2011

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