Is it over yet? Can I open my eyes?

Any of you who have known me for a little while know that my family has walked through some painful stuff the last few years. I was on the phone with my mom yesterday and she asked me how I was doing. I think she secretly expects me to fall apart like I did in the fall, so every few days she calls me and asks me the hard questions. Anyways, I told her I was doing surprisingly well. So well in fact I thought there was something wrong because regardless of my circumstances, I'm happy for the first time in a long time. I cautiously said those words and told her my heart felt fear admitting I was happy because whenever things seem to be going smoothly, devastation immediately follows, or least it has for the last three years. It's almost like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. It made me briefly reflect on how far we have come as a family and how far I have come as a young woman. I also realized that I spend so much of my life, especially in the painful seasons, with my eyes shut. My knuckles so tight they are white, my teeth clenched and my eyes refusing to see anything. I hold my breath and count to ten hoping it's over. What I miss in that moment is the beauty of the refinement process. Yes, it hurts. Yes, if I refuse to breathe and open my eyes to world around me, I might feel it a fraction less. But if I just surrender to the pain, surrender to the moments of weakness, insecurity and vulnerability, I can begin to heal faster. In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader Eustace turns into a dragon because of his selfishness and greediness. He is miserable after he can't shed his dragon skin. When he's off by himself, he meets Aslan and begs Aslan to help him. Aslan tells him there is a cure, but it is going to be painful. Eustace agrees to endure it. Aslan takes his claws and slowly begins to tear away the scales from Eustace's skin.

"The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel away."

How I've felt that pain - the excruciating pain that seems like it will never end. I can only imagine the tears the Father has for us as He peels away at our sin and removes the grit from our lives. When He welcome Him into that journey, we must expect that He is going to remove the hard, scaly exterior to get us to the person He created us to be. My challenge now is to keep my eyes open. How much more will I learn if I can only open my eyes a fraction more.


Is it over yet?
Can I open my eyes?
Is this as hard as it gets?
Is this what it feels like to really cry?