Picking at Scabs

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Tonight, one of my Facebook friends sent me a private message. This particular individual knows that for the past several weeks I have actually had a prospective lady friend actually go on a date with me and then get together for regular albeit brief conversations since then. This person also knows that within the last few weeks the prospect has changed from "likely" to "slim to none, with slim walking out the door" and is concerned about my social prospects and reaction. So, this person has on his own recognizance taken it upon himself to look through my Facebook friends and tell me how many attractive friends I have.

I appreciate the concern. I appreciate the statistical analysis. I appreciate that they did not have to be asked. It's very supportive. I know this person wants to make sure that I can look back on this time without regrets and enjoy some modicum of happiness now.

Last weekend, the leaders of my Faith once again called to task those males of my faith who are deliberately postponing marriage. Interestingly enough, this message bothered me, even though it's not like I'm actively engaged in an effort to avoid fatherhood. In fact, most of my pleas fall on deaf ears. I didn't go on a single date in 2011, not because I didn't ask, but actually because at least nine times I can recall offhand I showed up and was stood up by girls who were no-call/no-show. By the time I was 30, I had accomplished everything I initially wanted to do with my life besides be a dad.

I find it interesting that in trying to be helpful this person has actually picked away at a scab and caused a new injury to an old wound. I know this person thinks he is being helpful, but all he has done is reawaken an old wound. Last weekend in Microbiology, we discussed what happens underneath a wound to help heal, and so I know full well not only the consequences but also the mechanisms involved when we open old wounds. In fact, I came very close within a 24 hour period this week to having face-to-face confrontations with two young ladies who frankly friendzoned me and harshly so with contumelies after having led me on for quite some time. I do not wish to talk to them because I am trying to heal, and that will just leave me vulnerable to repeat injury if I allow them to pick at my scabs with their ostensibly friendly banter.

One of my first reactions to this was a scene from the Princess Bride (1989). When they go visit Miracle Max, they verify his identity, asking if he's the Max who worked for the king. Max sneers as he replies, "The king's stinking son fired me. Thank you so much for bringing up such a painful memory. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice papercut and pour lemon juice on it". I know the men who asked didn't mean to cause him pain; in fact they came to offer him business. It was a win-win scenario poorly enough handled that it looked painful to Max.

God saw fit when He created me to bless me with an above-average ability to recall at will and sometimes against my will things I have read or heard or experienced. When this particular lady friend of mine this week decided to give me the cold shoulder, flashbacks of a similar situation with another young lady who even has the same name flooded back after years of dormancy. They say that time heals all things. I disagree. I think that over time, your heart puts scabs over painful experiences so that your brain can move on. Somehow, I know that God handles this better than that. I know He has them because we wound Him constantly. Some day I hope and ask Him to teach me how He deals with painful memories.

There is a healing process. It involves the right things done by the right people at the right place at the right time and with right authority. You're not a doctor or a psychologist or a pastor; what I really need to heal is something else to do, some other reason to exist, and direction to make something else with my life. I need to be healed, which means that the old must pass away and become new as the proper mechanisms operate beneath the scab to replace the damaged areas with new life. When we do not allow this process to proceed as it should, scars result. Let me heal with a wise heart and a submissive soul. Only then can I be whole again.