From the year 2008 through 2009 I experienced some severe “pruning” via: the loss of my mother to cancer (this involved struggling through many issues not directly related to her illness, as well as the cancer itself), the tragic loss of my brother-in-law to a car accident (leaving a wife and 3 year old son), and the painful and perplexing loss of my part-time job and relationships I had there. This was followed by the autumn of 2009, which brought some long-standing marriage-threatening struggles with my husband to a head (struggles that did not experience resolution for several years to come).
The autumn of 2010 is when the real “darkness” began (and I thought the previous years had been hell, itself). As I search for a way to describe my experience, the image of a tornado comes to mind, a tornado at night. All of a sudden I found myself in a swirling force, in total darkness and completely out of control of what was happening to me. The “tornado” had scooped me up and I was swirling in the dark, being bumped and smacked by other things (painful things) swirling in the darkness with me. I couldn’t see what was hitting me, but it hurt each time impact occurred. In time (what felt like forever), the swirl spit me out into the center of the tornado, where I felt like I was in suspended animation—it was dark, but quiet and calm and I realized that I was actually breathing for the first time in “forever” (the pressure of the swirl inhibited breathing). It felt odd, surreal and uncomfortable, but I was thankful to breath. Then, without warning, I was sucked back into the swirl. The next time the swirl spit me into the center, I gulped a deep breath and let loose with rage at God. “What the hell are you doing to me? What have I done to deserve this?” Etcetera. Again I was sucked into the swirl and again I was spit into the center—always in the dark, disoriented, furious, and afraid. “What is happening to me? Am I going insane? God, why don’t you answer me? Do you even know that I’m here?”
Today, eight years later, I realize that when the tornado first scooped me up I was at the bottom of the funnel where the space inside the swirl is extremely small, tight and cramped. My times in the quiet center were short because the space was small and in close proximity to the force of the swirl—thus, sucking me back into the swirl quickly after I’d been spit into the center. Time seemed to move at a glacial speed, but looking back I can sense that God was slowly moving me upward in the funnel. The base was close, intense and very dark. As I moved upward, the center seemed less constrained as the diameter of the funnel grew larger. It was still dark and I still raged, but somehow it seemed more spacious.
At some point (I don’t know when), I stopped fighting the process. I could almost see humor in my condition—how could I ever have believed that I could have any control over myself, or life? “What the f@*# am I doing . . . fighting God? As if that makes any sense at all! Ok, God, I still don’t like what’s happening but it’s not like I’m going to beat you or even try—so . . . this is your mess, you do what you want with it! You fix it!”
The swirl/center alternations continued, but my times in the center seemed ever so slightly longer and the dark didn’t seem as dark. In what felt like a thousand years, I noticed that I could dimly discern the sizes and shapes of what swirled about with me. Surprise, surprise—these things that had been hitting and hurting me were my own idols and attachments, my own issues, my false self! They were swirling with me and I was helpless to let them go or hurl them from the tornado. Back in the center, deep sighs came with the realization that God, Himself, would have to take care of them, because I couldn’t. Like my attachments, I was simply “along for the ride”.
Slowly, my times in the center became times of acknowledgment and repentance. The attachments remained in the swirl, but I was a bit better able to see and recognize them. The swirl and the center continued to become less dark—there was light without being light, if that makes sense. Or maybe God was just giving me better “night vision”. Whatever it was, it was God—not me—who was responsible.
There were moments in the center that lasted for months—blissful times of sweet, tender love from God. Then, back into the swirl—but, being further up in the funnel causes the swirl to move more slowly and less intensely than at the base, and the dark doesn’t seem to be as noticeable or bothersome.
The swirl still isn’t pleasant or comfortable, but I’m more accepting and aware of the blessings it contains. There is a contentment and peace that comes from knowing that God has chosen to put me in the Heaven-BoundTornado of His Love—his crazy, over-the-top love. How could the tornado ever have caused me pain, fear and rage? It is because his love is fierce and terrifying, and it always will be. His love will not be defeated or denied—ever. I will remain in the tornado as long as he desires me to be here. I marvel at his amazing, uncompromising love and devotion to me, to make me all that he intended for me to be since the beginning of time—one with him. Thank you, Abba, for your crazy, over-the-top love for me. Make me to be crazy, over-the-top in love with you, too.
As for my attachments, I have learned a few things from the tornado. They feel quite big, but they are really quite small. They may go all the way back to my time in my mother’s womb (even beyond, perhaps), but they aren’t who I am and they don’t define me. They don’t need to frustrate or defeat me, either. If I see them as friends, they can help me to a deeper surrender and trust in God. But they must be kept in their proper place—in Satan’s hands they are weapons of destruction, but in the Holy Spirit’s hands they are tools of instruction, redemption and transformation.
but love is there, hovering over my soul 