Excavation

Recently, I was talking with my spiritual director, and she asked me a question about the healing journey I’ve been on over the past several years. When she asked her question, I had a picture of a large boulder pop into my mind.

I started thinking about how, when you excavate the ground, an important step is removing the large boulders. Once the boulders are out of the way, you can dig up the earth underneath, but until the boulders are removed, it is nearly impossible to see what they are hiding.

I began to imagine an archeologist setting up a dig site and how they would need to remove the large boulders that obstruct their site safely. Things don’t move super fast at a dig site. Each step of the dig requires careful documentation of what has been done, and everything has to be handled with attention and care so that none of the artifacts are damaged. With time and patience, the archeologist can dig deeper and uncover more.

My healing journey has felt so similar to this image. I began by examining the large boulders. They were the obvious things that needed to be dug up and explored. Some boulders looked big, but actually crumbled as I started to examine them. Others were strong and took some time to unearth.

Once the boulders were out of the way, I was able to begin exploring the ground underneath them. As I continue to heal, I can excavate new depths. I am stronger now. I’ve learned how to listen to my body and not ignore the clues it gives me. I’ve learned to ask for help.

Under those initial boulders, I am discovering new layers of sediment. Rocks and debris that have been compressed over time. As I dig, those compacted layers begin to separate, and I find myself looking at parts of my story that have long been lost to me.

The Holy Spirit and I are working together to explore these layers. What still needs to be understood and woven into the integrated story of my life? What is hidden in those layers that I need to dust off and carry with me? What is in those layers that still triggers my nervous system?

Back in March, I told you about our freezer and how we had to take it apart because of an ice buildup. Since then, we’ve taken it apart two more times. We thought we’d fixed the problem the first time, but when the door started sticking again, we determined the freezer needed a new gasket. Surely, that would prevent the buildup that was happening. Alas, it did not.

My husband did some research and determined that the drain was likely clogged or frozen, so we disassembled the freezer for a third time. Only this time we went a layer deeper. We pulled the refrigerator away from the wall, cleaned all of the pieces of the drain, and removed the cover inside the freezer that contains all of the wiring and the heating element.

I gasped when the cover was removed. It was like a tiny iceberg hiding inside. I spent an hour sitting on the floor, blow-drying the freezer until all of the misplaced ice was finally melted. Then my husband ran hot water through the drain line to ensure it was no longer clogged and would drain properly.

As we were working on the freezer, I thought back to that image of the boulder. I thought about how each time we took our freezer apart, we had to go a level deeper to try and get it back to its proper working order. Each time we fixed what we could see. Each subsequent time, we had to look deeper. Maybe we’ve finally found the root cause, or perhaps we’ll have to keep exploring. Only time will tell.

There are different kinds of healing, but they all take time. 

When a bone breaks, we have a clear picture of how long we’ll be in a cast, what caused the break, and what we’ll need to do to strengthen the muscles around that bone over time. While inconvenient, there is a clear path forward.

But not all healing journeys are clear.

Grief, trauma, and chronic illness are just some of the scenarios where the healing journey is less clear. In these instances, healing looks different for every person and is rarely instantaneous. It can feel discouraging not to know when or if healing will come.

On these paths, where healing feels slow, at times invisible, the key is to not walk on the path alone. Who can walk alongside you and help point you to hope when the days feel dark? Who can help hold your grief? Who can sit with you in your pain and remind you that you are loved?

I couldn’t explore healing by myself. I needed help carrying the load. For me, that included the Holy Spirit, a counselor, a spiritual director, my family, and a community of safe people who know my story. 

Healing may not always look like what we imagine. Start where you are. Move forward as you can. Don’t go alone. 


~  Melissa