I lift this ball of pain up to you. Please hold it for me. I am weary and you are strong. I know it is mine and I must deal with it, but please just hold it for a little while and let my soul rest.
I was praying this prayer last night because the pain all seemed more than I could bear, and I know I can’t bury it anymore.
I envisioned my hands lifting the orange, fiery ball of my pain up to him and him taking it from my hands.
Felt the rage and the pain in the ball like it was just happening, huge amounts at first, tried to squeeze it back down, but couldn’t.
Chest pounding. adrenaline racing, anger sizzling.
Shocked at the depth of the feelings.
They were as strong as the night I tried to kill myself, thirty years ago, and then as he reached down to take the ball of pain, I felt what I can only describe as a wash of relief and happiness over my entire body. The kind of joy you only feel a few times in your life, like when your first baby is placed in your arms, but it was even stronger.
And I knew it was the Holy Spirit and I started to giggle out loud and smile.
He is holding my pain for me for right now, and I feel that he will give it back to me in pieces that I can handle.
I know I will heal now, and it is the first glimmer I have had of healing.
So, it has been a couple weeks since I prayed that prayer and lifted my pain up to Jesus. Last night, I realized that I was holding on to the ball of pain again, so I envisioned lifting the ball up to him, but this time I let it go much easier and instantly, my entire body relaxed and I felt relief and peace.
I have decided to let him keep it because I can’t let go if I’m still holding on.