Soul Surgery

     I have often wondered how some people can just let events roll off their back and emerge mostly unaffected.  My husband is like that, but I am not one of those people. It's a good thing we are balanced like that, but I am convinced I am more fortunate to have a steady person by my side than my husband is to have a bundle of emotions by his. I am profoundly affected by spoken words, good and bad, but as you can imagine, it's the bad ones that affect me more. Angry, mocking words- I feel they are hurled at me and I can never get out of their way in time to duck, and they are splattered all over me. And I can't wipe them off. They stick to me, like wood stain sticks to your fingers, and sink in, only to be removed by time. I try to not think of them, try not to rehash them, but there they remain, working their way out of my mind in their own time. I pester myself with questions, replaying what was said, as if I could change things. Was I wrong? Were my answers soft enough? Why does this person feel this way toward me?
     Intellectually, I know this is not good for me, it's not productive, and at the end of the day, if I know I have done nothing wrong, then there is not much more I can do. I know this. But knowing and feeling are separate things for me. Oh, to be like my husband for a day! I would like to get inside his head and see how it works, this ability to just override feelings and respond intellectually. I don't really want to be just like my husband; but I am curious and sometimes in awe of how his mind works. Yet, this is the way God has wired us to think and feel- in two very different ways.
     And I struggle to find the balance between emotion and intellect, trying to give both equal time, without letting one dominate over the other too often. After a confrontation, I feel weak and overwhelmed with emotions and not a clear thought in my head, looking for the nearest rock to hide under. But it is in these times of weakness, I feel God working in my heart, reminding me that He is my refuge, my shield, and that I need not fear anyone. It's in this weakness that I am convicted to be cautious with my own words, weighing them, testing them before I let them out, lest they wound someone. This weakness prompts me to fish the log out of my own eye before removing the splinter in someone else's eye; to forgive when there is no apology offered nor any resolution sought after. And then I can let go.
     It may take hours, days, or a week, but I am finally able to release the emotions that I am captive to. Things just don't roll off my back, they work their way through me as if they are finding their way through a maze. I am learning to be grateful for this process, this pain. I know God is teaching me and guiding me through these times for a purpose, continually refining me, pruning me, drawing my attention to Him.  He has brought me quite a distance, but He is far from done.