Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

The name was like a key in the lock of the floodgates that held back the fullness of Charlie’s pain. They swung open, pouring a tidal wave of grief and anger and desperation over Savannah’s soul. Her fingers dug into the ground as she sobbed, seeking an anchor lest the emotion sweep her away. Her heart kicked in her chest as though trying to literally pound its way out.

Fear surfaced through the waves. What was she thinking, pushing herself that way? She didn’t really want to die, did she?

She couldn’t tell anymore what was her pain and what was Charlie’s. He was already dead, but his heart didn’t know it. If she didn’t get it under control, it might kill her, too.

She sucked in deep breaths, trying to slow the beat and rein in the overwhelming feelings. “Slow down, relax, be calm,” she panted. And then – because what did she have to lose? – “You’re mine. Charlie is gone, and you’re mine now. That anger is dead. That pain is done. Let it go. Just let it go already.”

Like flotsam from a shipwreck, thoughts swirled through her head that she knew instinctively were not hers, thoughts that told her life was a waste and love was a myth and God was a fairy tale. She pounded her fists to the ground and yelled. “No! Lies, lies, lies!” And then, grasping onto new thoughts that floated in the current like life preservers, she begged, “Be real, God. Be real again. I can’t do this anymore. Make this stop. This has to stop! Charlie is gone-you’re gone, Charlie, you’re dead, and this heart is mine!”

Her voice escalated with every sentence, her fists punctuating them on the dirt, until she dropped her head to the ground and waited for something to carry her away.

She had nothing left. No thoughts, no emotions. All were gone, like an ocean squall that disappears as quickly as it came, leaving you clinging to your raft and unsure if you can really trust it’s over. Her heart began to slow, her breath to regulate. She released the ground and slowly pushed herself up to her feet, standing cautiously as though the earth might tip and send her crashing down again. She felt different. She couldn’t identify the reason, but with each slow step that brought her closer to the house the difference became more pronounced.

Limping, she mounted the stairs to the front door. She headed for her room, ignoring the looks of concern from the others as she bypassed the flow of people leaving the dining room from dinner. She washed the earth from her face and hands, stripped off her stained clothes, and crawled beneath the blankets as exhaustion overtook her.

In the seconds before she fell into a hard sleep, she realized the difference was peace.

SUNLIGHT BATHED THE ROOM WHEN SAVANNAH AWOKE. EVERY muscle ached when she rolled from the bed, but she relished the sensation as she sat on the floor to stretch. It felt good to have awakened her body again, beat it into submission, shown it who was boss. She smiled, her body responding to the wake-up call of a few pilates poses.

She was still not her old self. Foreign feelings still coursed through her veins, but the strange peace that had enveloped her before falling asleep the night before was still there. She noted with great pleasure that the simmering anger had cooled as well. Not completely, but enough to give her hope.

She had new feelings as well, ones that she could claim as her own. Empowerment. Ambition. No more hiding, no more distractions. Time to stare it all in the face and deal with it head on. It was time to find healing instead of despairing that it would ever come.

Her resources at The Refuge were too good to pass up. She found Tabitha and told her what had happened the night before. “I’m ready to try the group therapy, if you’re still alright with that. I don’t know if it’s going to help, but I might as well try – and if nothing else it’ll give me something else to do with my time.”

Tabitha hugged her. “You’ve gone through the fire and come out the other side.”

“That’s about how I felt.”

“Group is at ten.”

“I’ll be there.”

She had half an hour, and she spent it on the porch with a notebook. She labeled a page Shaun and began to list the issues she could identify, trying to bring order to all the confusion that had reigned in her head lately. After that she listed the steps she could think of that might help resolve things, or at least slow their descent into total catastrophe.

A little before ten she left the rocking chair and made her way to the group therapy room, where a circle of chairs awaited the Refugees. She was greeted with warm smiles that bolstered her courage. If they could do it, so could she. Even though she wasn’t sure what “it” was.

After everyone was seated, Tabitha announced Savannah to the group. “I know you’ve all met her already, but I wanted to give her an official introduction as a Refugee member. Welcome to the group, Savannah.”

Savannah gave a nod and tried not to look as nervous as she felt. After a brief murmur of welcome from the others, Tabitha kicked off the session with a statement-structured prayer that lacked any sense of a prayer at all. “God can heal us, and we ask him to do that today,” she said with eyes open, locking gazes with each person in turn as she spoke. “God can soften our hearts toward those who have wounded us, and can bring us out of the pain we’ve been living in. Do you agree?”

Some-though not all, Savannah noticed-echoed their agreement. She wondered if her own prayer for a softened heart would do any good, since her heart wasn’t exactly her heart. Maybe it’s like praying for someone else. Though that would require that she actually pray, and while she had called out to Jesus the night before, it hadn’t exactly been in a reverent and prayerful way. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to take that step, especially if uttering that one name had brought on such a tempest. What kind of storm would a whole prayer unleash? She decided she would open herself to the prayers of others, but not attempt her own quite yet. Baby steps.

Tabitha began talking about the subject of the day’s meeting: what forgiveness looked like and how it would help them, versus what it did, if anything, for the person that wounded them. She listened to Tabitha’s teaching, and to the honest and sometimes gut-wrenching admissions of the Refugees who were willing to share with the group. Her mind wandered a bit as she listened, attempting to determine how her own situation could be helped by this, but by the time lunch rolled around and they all filed out together she found she was energized and encouraged by the meeting. Tabitha stopped her before they entered the dining room and asked, “So, what did you think?”

“It was… it was good, I think. I’m really glad I did it. I’m still not sure how this is going to help me, but I’m willing to try it.”

Tabitha wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’m so glad.”

Savannah was struck with an idea. “Listen. Would you be willing to pray for me? Not out loud, necessarily, just… while we’re standing here.”

Tabitha’s smile was electric. “Absolutely.” She led Savannah to the windows, and they each took a seat and stared out to the land that stretched along the front of the house. She found herself almost cheering Tabitha on in her mind, as though this one prayer might actually change anything. After a moment Tabitha turned to her and smiled. “Done.”

“Painless. Thanks. Baby steps are good, right?”

“They’re crucial, yes.”

“Okay, good.” She inhaled deeply, relishing the peace that was still hanging around. “Baby steps I think I can do.”

SHAUN WANDERED THE EMPTY GROCERY store aisle without really seeing the items on the shelves. He didn’t actually need anything-he still had a decent amount of food to finish off- but he’d been desperate to escape the prison of the empty house where he felt compelled to hide during the day. Midnight was the perfect time to venture out without the likelihood of running into someone who now hated him.