My Squeaky Wounds

pouty woman

John’s post yesterday really pierced me.  I squirmed when I read his story about Chatty Cathy in the feed store – way too familiar to me to be comfortable, ha!  I call it the “Squeaky Wound” conundrum.  Have you ever met someone and had them begin to tell you all of their deep, dark traumas and woe not five seconds after you’ve exchanged names?  Or maybe you’re in a group, and someone grabs the floor (so to speak) and is unable to “read the room” – they’re oblivious to the squirming, yawning and furtive glances at the door.  Congrats, people!  You’ve been witness to the Squeaky Wound!

Well, I call it the Squeaky Wound but that’s a bit chipper compared to the reality.  Because the root of my behavior might be an old wound, but if it’s spewing out, then my once legitimate wound has become a festering point of bitterness, unforgiveness, self-pity or all three.  And that’s what makes it aggressive.  My Squeaky Wounds don’t just expose my heart, they actively hunt others.

I have been the woman in the feed store.  I had an old wound of being unheard that vomited out singing, loud talking, and mile-a-minute chatter – AT someone else.  I nursed my wound by obliterating this person’s peace.  It wasn’t cute, or dramatic, or even sad.  It was aggressive and violent, and I felt justified in my heart.  I killed their peace, I robbed their time and I negated their very personhood in refusing to see or hear them.  The woman in the feed store didn’t just annoy the clerk or inconvenience other shoppers; she held the clerk hostage, bombarded him with words, and told him (through her actions) that he didn’t matter at all.

Ultimately, my squeaky wound exposed a place where I believed that God had neglected my need to be heard.  It was a festering lie about my Father, and it was killing me and hurting those around me.  The gift in being so wholly exposed was in bringing Light to a place of darkness in my heart.  I was cleansed and healed by the Blood and reconciled to my Lord and, through forgiveness, to the person I’d attacked.

There are times when buried wounds surface and start squeaking – and I’m not able or willing to stop it.  The truth will out no matter how hard we work to control it.  Martha once said that we’re ALL far more transparent than we know.  I can vouch for that in my life.  It is an utter humiliation to my pride to be so exposed – by myself, no less! – and it’s a huge gift of LOVE from God.  Like Johnny Cash sang, “What’s done in the dark will be brought to the Light!”

Thank you, Jesus, for my Squeaky Wounds!  May they continue to expose every pocket of festering lies that would keep me from You.

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    • […] of the offices of the Holy Spirit is “Comforter.”  In my last post, a question came up about comforting the wounded, specifically, what does that look like in the […]

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