Whose words?

Whose words will I allow to define my life,

to shape my heart, 

to guide my way?

Will it be his words,

left in a note,

written down, 

without the courage to be said out loud?

“I’m leaving, 

I am not needed here as I am at work. 

Good bye. 

It’s over.”

Will it be her words, 

spoken daily, 

born of her own pain, 

seeping through cracks into the open?

“Am I enough? 

Am I too much? 

Is it all in order?

Is everything perfect?”

Will it be their words, 

cruel and sharp,

pouring from their own young, 

wounded hearts?

“You’re not good enough. 

You’re too religious. 

Go be a nun. 

You don’t belong here.”

Will it be my own words,

louder still than all the others, 

vicious and unrelenting, 

full of guilt and shame?

“Push through it.

Be perfect. 

You should…

You have to…”

Will it be the Sly One’s words, 

spoken underneath all the others, 

slippery and sneaky, 

half truths wrapped in malice?

“He doesn’t love you. 

He won’t show up for you. 

You can’t trust Him. 

Run. Hide. Protect Yourself.”

Will it be Your Word, 

“full of grace and truth,” 

“still and small,” 

whispered always in the depths of my soul?

“My Child. 

My Beloved. 

My Joy. 

My Delight.”

I choose…

The Way,

The Truth,

The Life. 

Explanation:

It was one of those days where all the details were bogging me down. I felt my unrest growing and was sorely tempted to distract myself (again) from what was really going on in my heart. I learned from an early age to avoid the hard feelings and emotions because they seemed too big and too heavy for me to carry alone. Distraction and avoidance became my habits. But God in His Mercy is showing me a new way…His Way. On the day I wrote this poem, I slowed down, sat down and prayed instead of sticking my face in a book and escaping reality. 

This poem is the fruit of that time of prayer in which God showed me how many voices I allow to control my life, my thoughts and perceptions of reality. And even more so, He showed me how I have a real choice as to what voice I choose to follow in my life. This poem shows all the different ways I have allowed other people’s wounded voices to define me and how God is now showing me the power I have to reject those voices and allow Him to define my identity. 

The first voice is that of my dad. He left our family when I was 2 years old. He chose to leave while my mother had taken my sister and me on a trip to the beach. He left a note saying how he no longer felt needed at home as he did at work and so he was leaving. For a long time, I allowed his choice to define my identity as ‘unwanted,’ ‘unvalued.’ The work of healing God is now doing in my heart is allowing me to place the responsibility for his actions on him and not to see them as a reflection of who I am. 

The second voice is that of my mother. I love my mother and I will never be able to repay her for the love and stability she was able to provide for me, but she also has wounds of her own from the divorce. She has always been very critical of herself and actions. I have come to realize that it is the voice of her own pain in my head when I look at myself or my actions. For a long time, her own wounds from my father’s abandonment of our family seeped over onto me without either of us even being aware of it. She responded to the pain by blaming herself and controlling as many details as possible. My mother did so much to protect and love us, so recognizing and addressing the wounds I have from her has been some of the most difficult work on my healing journey. 

The third voice is that of my fellow classmates in that all-important adolescent phase of life. My already wounded, self-protective heart took many blows from my peers who often criticized my faith and strong sense of morality. As a result, I spent a long time feeling as though I had no place I belonged. 

The fourth voice is that of the Devil. As I was writing this poem, God showed me how the Devil’s sly voice is underneath and inside of all the other voices which have wounded and tried to control me. He wants my destruction and wants me to stay stuck in my own pain and wounds and despair. He loves when I run and hide, and try to protect myself from everything and everyone because then I become like him: alone and miserable. 

The last voice is the True Voice. Listening to God’s voice is a choice. All of the other voices always seem so loud and demanding. They overshadow His Voice so often because of their urgency and volume. But God tells us His voice is ‘still’ and ‘small.’ It takes effort and intention to hear that Voice. It is a battle to hear that Voice. It requires me to slow down and face all the screaming voices; to allow them to fade away and my true name is spoken: “My Child. My Beloved. My Joy. My Delight.”

About the author

Elizabeth Therese (author's pseudonym) is an alumni of Life-Giving Wounds and occasional volunteer for the ministry.

Reflection Questions for Small Groups or Individuals

1. Whose words do you “allow to define [your] life, to shape [your] heart, to guide [your] way?”

2. Did you also learn “from an early age to avoid the hard feelings and emotions because they seemed too big and too heavy for [you] to carry alone?” How has that changed over your life?

3. After reflecting on this poem, what other thoughts come to mind?