It's been almost two months since I've been seeing Elizabeth and whenever I sit down to meet with her, the hour flies by. There are few moments during the week when I intentionally step back and realize just how powerful and sacred the space is - my therapy sessions have been just that and I continue to perceive this invitation from the Lord to go to the messy and dark places. My time with Elizabeth has revolved around talking about the things that I am dealing with and mourning presently; of course, much of my present-day struggles are intertwined with past experiences that I dealt with as a little girl. That's the thing about childhood trauma - it can never be totally forgotten and it has a way of resurfacing in present experiences.
Last night was one of those evenings where I went there - I talked about a memory that had to do with my sister and one that left me broken as a little girl. The tears came, and it was powerful to dust off the memory and process it together with Elizabeth. At the end of our session, she mentioned that she oftentimes does sessions where she invites other family members to be a part of the session as a part of the healing experience. I realize that my mom, sister, and I never processed the trauma that happened to my sister together as a family. We just tried to cope in our individual ways and move past the event.
It's the season of Lent, and during my therapy session, Elizabeth drew my attention to the reality that when Christ rose from the grave, his scars didn't just magically disappear. The scars in his hands remained as evidence of the death that he had to endure on the cross. I sat back in my chair and slowly absorbed her words. The scars remained on a person who was able to conquer death itself. As I revisit my scars this season, I hope and pray that they reflect the ultimate triumph of the cross, and that even the pain of reopened scars catalyzes deeper healing and awareness of God's goodness and glory.
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