By Linda Drury

I stare at myself in the mirror.  Glasses askew, lens busted, blackened eye, bottom lip split and bloodied (only slightly, really).

What happened to me?  What wrecking ball did in my face?   My real face apparent to those on the street is still intact, pretty presentable.   This is my inner beating.  My bar fight in the interior of my soul.   I once again, stupidly and blindly put my face in front of the fists of my rabid fellows.

These people ravage my face, my peace, and my soul.  They tear at my heart with their verbal attacks.  Their very actions and decisions render me hurt and desolate once again.  I am driven to dance with them.  I choose to place everything that is precious to me in their destructive path.

Finally the pain is enough to propel me to answers.

First, I discover a group of humans who also have allowed the soul beatings into their lives.  With them I discovered that God never intended for me to carry the diseased, the tormented.  He is my shelter and my quiet place.  I am safe in Him always.  I will not play out the crucifixion.  One all saving event has happened many thousands of years ago.  God has my back and I turn to Him for healing and relief.

Carefully, prayerfully I place myself, and the broken humanity that surrounds me into His care.

It is  a better place for them and for me.