It was so wonderful to worship with my church family yesterday. I didn’t make it all the way through the service because sitting upright is still taxing, so I ended up on a comfy couch in the foyer.
Again, I was overwhelmed with the outpouring of love and support from those around me. We were nearly the last ones out of the building, and it occurred to me that we should linger more often and spend those precious moments involving ourselves in other people’s lives, rather than heading out the door and on to the next thing.
The morning was mentally taxing more than physically painful. I was in a place where most people around me are familiar and care for me, so personal space is closer than in many other public settings. I was on guard and fearful of being jostled or bumped. I felt it even in the service sitting next to my husband, whom I trust completely. Despite his care and knowledge of my situation, quarters were close and a change of his position could have brought me a good deal of pain.
Consequently, I sat guarded, on edge, protecting my sore places. My wounds are covered and hidden, but my fear of pain kept me from relaxing and fully enjoying the service and the fellowship around me.
I wonder how many other people were there yesterday, protecting sore places. Surrounded by people who care and love, how many were afraid of the pain others could inflict with just one wrong move? Were they able to fully engage in worship and enjoy the feeling of togetherness? Or did they long to be back home, where they are safe from potential harm?
How often am I the one who jostles–bumps–inadvertently opens wounds? Am I so concerned with the next thing that I don’t notice the one sitting apart, guarding? Open my eyes, Lord, to the needs of others. Show me how to meet needs and ease pain. Make me a safe place, that I may guide others to the Safe Place where only You can heal the wounds.