What is healing?

I am thinking about this question a lot lately, because of my mom, because I am part of the healing prayer team at the Cathedral, because my cat Bob is old, because we are all chipped, cracked, broken, and many-times repaired.

Here is something from Dirty Sexy Ministry, one of my regular reads:

Sometimes healing is about remembering you're okay, just as you are. 

The writer goes on to quote Wendell Berry's poem, The Peace of Wild Things:

When despair grows in me
and I wake in themiddle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and mychildren's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
restsin his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come intothe peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
ofgrief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above methe day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest inthe grace of the world, and am free.

"The peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief" (my bolding). That's, as Joseph Campbell used to say, Big Stuff. The fear portion of our weight. And our wait.

The rest of that particular post is here. While you're there, check out the whole blog.