In his "Daily Meditation," Fr Richard Rohr points out again this morning, If you do not transform your pain, you will most assuredly transmit it.
To which I say, again, Man, ain't that the truth?!
My pain today is centered on the word "beloved." According to me, "beloved" is a gift you give to another never yourself...to be called "beloved" by another is the wounded-heart healer.
This is my truth because that is precisely how I came to own it...no, that's how it came to own me. My beloved mentor, long time ago, in my time of perplexity and pain, casually but oh-so-warmly, called me "beloved." And my heart bloomed rosebuds and rainbows and I knew I was loved and my perplexing pain was just another pish-tosh and I felt fine as frog's hair...to quote my Grandma.
Ever since, when I have a friend in need, I name them in my heart or in my head or out loud on purpose..."beloved." And it is a no-kidding fact, at no time before my roses and rainbows experience, would that word have entered my mind or left my lips.
To cut to the punchline, I found to my dismay that there are those who think not so much of my "beloved" and don't hesitate to so say. And to snicker behind it. Lo! My heart was broken, and through my tears, I have looked it in the eye, and recognized the rest of the story. My beloved mentor was diagnosed with dementia some years ago, is now in a memory-care unit and would not know me if I visited which of course I cannot do.
That is true...it is an always hurt and the transmitter of my pain. It is also true and more to my life's purpose that that pain must be transformed. If it is not, I See Me and my ego will transmit my victim's cry of my beloved has been dissed, his precious gift has been devalued and laugh-at-able. And
somebody (namely I) will have to pay.
Invariably, that transformed pain begins with the word "humbly." We want to give over, give up, give in without leaving finger- or footprints, we begin our thank you prayer humbly.
Who's kidding whom? Right now that's from my eyebrows up. I can and must become willing for it to be moved down to my heart into my Soul to bounce back up into my brainbox.
Mercy! I wrote the above, got interrupted and read the rest of Rohr today. Don't tell me God doesn't have my back:
We’re in Hell now by wrapping ourselves around our hurts, by over-identifying with and attaching ourselves to our fears, so much so that they become our very identity. Any chosen state of victimhood is an utter dead end. Once you make that your narrative, it never stops gathering evidence about how you have been wronged by life, by others, and even by God.
Thank you.
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