Discovery Two

The pain was urgent and was demanding release, so I decided to purchase one of the books and return to the privacy of my home where I could explore the words and the stories. I had to find out why I was seeing myself in the books I had chosen to browse through.

It was difficult to decide which book to buy. I grabbed two of the books and took them to the check-out counter and asked the sales lady for a recommendation. I explained about the radio program I’d stumbled onto and my curiosity about certain words and phrases. The words that struck my spirit most were the words “dysfunctional” and “the responsible one.” I don’t know why they struck me but I was desperate to explore this new-found territory and take the first step in the journey of discovery. As I began to speak, another sob came rushing to the surface with the full force of unrestrained grief and agony. I stood there in that little book store, trembling and fighting the tears and the pain that demanded release. I’d been a happy person up until that moment – or so I thought. Then I did something that seemed so inexcusable, so unlike me, I buried my face in my hands and sobbed in a public place as though no one else was present.

As I cried, gentle arms reached around me in a tender embrace and a soft, compassionate voice whispered into my heart, “It’s OK. It hurts. It’s OK to cry. Let it go. There’s healing in letting go. There’s healing in tears.”

When I uncovered my eyes, two people were hugging me: the nice sales lady from behind the counter and a giant man. Both had tears in their eyes. Both wore expressions of compassion and understanding. I felt protected and I felt loved. Days later, I discovered that the lady and the giant were married to each other and were owners of the bookstore that bore the name “Stepping Stones.” They’d been through their own healing of the wounded child and they knew and understood my pain.

Both books I’d selected were recommended as starters, and the sales lady even gave me some literature about various support groups in the area. When I returned to my home I opened one of the books and started reading, turning the pages very carefully as if each page were a very fragile thing. With every turn of the page, little red paper hearts spilled from the book onto my chest -- right over the area of my heart. I giggled and cried at the same time. I was being loved by people I didn’t know and probably would never have taken the time to meet. It was a blessed moment.

That began my process of healing the inner child and of learning to trust people, and of gaining a world of love.

Story to be continued...