We all have secrets, of this I am most certain. Who can fully know our minds? Our hearts? Our inmost desires and dreams? Our pain?
Some happy secrets shoot out of us like sunbeams through stormclouds. More frightening secrets tend to fester deep and angry like cancer.
Some secrets heal us, some slowly kill.
The secret to secrets is to know when the secret is destructive before the damage is irreparable. To know and to act. To act and to share. To share, to become vulnerable, to cry, to share some more, to allow another to carve away a chunk of secret in order to carry that portion for you. To let go.
To allow time to heal what we ourselves are powerless to tend.
To trust that our Benevolent God is working carefully, knitting what looks like an utter, knotty mess into something beautiful, somewhere, for someone.
To stand and not fall. To maybe waver, but stand. To trust when all control is out of our hands, when we stand naked in the howling storm of situation, wind-whipped, drenched, mud-spattered. We stand.
We just stand.