That makes sense to me

As I'm trying to heal I realized I have a lot of spiritual condemnation for myself. I feel like a failure, or that God was disappointed in me for being so furious at him. I thought I needed to forgive God for letting Grace get cancer. Maybe I need him to forgive me for being so angry and refusing to accept his will. Though I know he understood me in it more than I did.

I don't think He was angry at me or felt like I was a moral failure. I see now that he accepted me as I was at that time. Maybe he didn't expect me to be anything else. I saw my anger as so big and strong, like lethal weapons that I was always shooting at him. But maybe I was more of an angry toddler, hurting and confused, throwing toys, who was still loved just as deeply by a much bigger, stronger and secure Father.

I think I wanted to hurt God so he would feel my pain. At least there is a touch of that in here somewhere. But he loved me, understood me. "Hmm. Yes. That makes sense to me. I might feel like that if that happened to me." And I guess that's a big part of why Jesus came to earth. So he could say that. He really could understand, that it really did make sense to him, because he was human.

I talked to a friend who has done EMDR therapy. She said that the closest way she could describe it, is that it changed your physiological reaction to traumatic memories. The panic and terror are gone. She said that she still remembers the memories, but her memory of them has altered so that she now remembers herself at that moment as being resilient, brave, and capable of change, instead of just as a helpless victim.

Even though psychologists are offering EMDR therapy online, I feel like it'd be hard to do for the first time that way. But I was able to revisit the root of a lot of my pain yesterday. I didn't see myself as resilient or determined then. I felt like I was the victim of cosmic injustice. I felt angry, robbed, frightened. And I felt like Jesus was disappointed in my less than spiritually-wise attitude.

But I think from now on when I think of that memory I'll hear the words of Teri in the mouth of Jesus. "Hmm. Yes. That makes sense to me. I might feel like that too if that happened to me." It's a compassionate Jesus. One who understands how frail and human I am, even if I don't. He accepts me and loves me as I am, not as I "should" be.

And I want to change my perception of myself in those memories. I was broken. I was scared. I was angry. I couldn't say to God, your will be done. But I refused to curse him. I didn't leave him. I still sought him. I reached out to my community and admitted when I needed help. I did my very best to be a good mom to my kids, though it still hurts that I couldn't do it all. I think that's another condemnation I need to heal from. I couldn't do it all.

"Hmm. Yes. I think I'd be frustrated by not being able to be in two places at once, even though I loved both of my kids. I might feel angry at myself for not being able to do that. But it's not fair to yourself to judge yourself for not being omnipresent. Only God can do that. You did the best with what you had as a human. You put in 200% whenever you were with either of your children. I can understand how would be painful it would feel to not be able to give them everything they needed. But if I were you, I might also feel proud of myself for putting them first and for loving them with every exhausted ounce of energy I had. And I would forgive myself for not being God. Yes, I think I would feel that way."

That's both Teri and Jesus saying that to me. And it's also me, saying it to my broken self.