A Whisper of Wholeness
Internal violence is an inevitable excretion of a division left to fester.
I can still picture the tweezers my mom kept for splinters. The gentle pressure she applied around the spot. “Sit still,” she would remind me. Then carefully, slowly and intentionally, she removed what didn’t belong. I never hid a splinter from her. I knew she would lovingly take care of it. Years later, on the road, it was a different story. Not hidden. Just postponed. I’ll get to it tonight at the hotel. And if the tweezers weren’t in my attaché case, a safety pin would have to do. Or whatever else had gathered in my luggage along the trail. Usually making it worse.
Most of the splinters we carry now aren’t in our fingers. An unspoken hurt. A conversation we keep putting off. A part of ourselves we’ve set aside for later. We aren’t hiding them. We’re just too busy for them. Yet division never stays small. Left alone, it widens and then deepens … between us and within us. The surface closes over, and what doesn’t belong begins to ache. Eventually, it finds its way out. A sharp word aimed at someone who had nothing to do with it. Wounded … and wounding. Inevitable. Maybe that tender ache isn’t the enemy, though. Maybe it’s simply wholeness, refusing to allow what doesn’t belong.
For further reflection
What small thing have I been too busy to tend … that is quietly beginning to ache?