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8. I am a genius, too.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is rightly called a child prodigy and musical genius. At seven years of age, his compositions and his piano and violin performances had already made him a legend. How? How did it happen? 

Like all of us, Mozart, was born designed for language. Music happens to be a language. There was nothing extraordinary in the fact that he could hear, comprehend and copy the sounds of language. It was unique, however, that he was exposed to far more than his mother tongue, German. Raised in a family of musical performers, he was surrounded from his infancy by the language of music…music remarkably well expressed, and he had a father who was a gifted teacher. The young Mozart was guided and instructed as he learned to understand the language of music such that he could write it, and create sounds, not with his voice alone, but with his arms, hands and fingers on instruments as extensions of his own body. 

I am so grateful the world was given a Mozart. I love his music. It is delightful, orderly, interesting, enchanting and soul-satisfying. Yet, I personally believe that Mozart’s capacity for language was no greater than the average person’s. Let me explain.

As part of one of my required courses in college, I learned about the patterns associated with human language development. I thought, originally, the class would be rather pointless and uninteresting—just another hoop to jump through toward graduation. I did not expect to be given a perspective on human nature that would influence me profoundly for years to come.  In that simple class, I learned to marvel the complexity of skill required for human language development: the nuances of sound (understood and replicated), the volume of words that make up a typical vocabulary (thousands upon thousands), the analyzation of syntax and grammar (understood, used and, often, humorously overgeneralized, and equally often, self-corrected). I came to believe everyone who is able to communicate through spoken language is a genius. 

That bit of knowledge changed my perspective of my future students, my family, my children, myself, friends, even strangers. It was paradigm-shifting.

You are a genius. It is true. Believe it. You proved yourself a genius as a child who learned to hear, comprehend and copy the sounds of language, just like Mozart.  What will you do with the knowledge that you have already developed such incredible skills? 

You are a fully capable human being. No matter how you are suffering right now, no matter how broken, you are someone who possesses remarkable ability. How will believing that piece of truth help you heal? 

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7. How can I know what is true?

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5. What is my work?

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2. What of old, deep, unhealed wounds?

It took me fifteen years to realize there were questions begging to be asked from the beautiful message I received that clear day in 2009. (The original thought was essentially this: we don’t have to know how to heal because we were made to heal, and we will heal if we keep contaminants from infecting an emotional wound.)

A few months ago, I was kneeling beside my bed, praying for people who really needed prayers (siblings, and children, and in-laws, and friends) when the questions spilled out:  What if a wound does become infected? What if a wound has continued and is now deep and old? What if that which we thought to be history, or never knew about at all, is secretly alive and festering and spitting out poison below the facade of a little scar? What can be done to heal those kinds of emotional wounds?

There couldn’t be a simple response to these questions, I was sure. But, I needed to ask; I wanted so much to know! 

Almost immediately a new thought came. It was simple:  When a wound is old and deep, the whole body has been affected and the whole body needs healing.  

Yes! I knew that was true. It made sense to me. The thought invited me to ponder. A person who is wounded and still in pain begins to think and see and hear and move and function differently in hopes of avoiding repeated injury and more pain. He or she may begin to use some parts of the body more and others less. Over time, some muscles will grow disproportionately large, others will atrophy, joints will be stressed and cause new pains of their own, glands will produce too much of one hormone and too little of another, organs will be over-taxed, memories will be distorted, perceptions altered, habits engrained. Indeed, the whole body needs help. 

I don’t pretend to be a healer. I am not an expert. I’m a sister, a daughter, a mother, a wife, a friend. I’m a teacher, a writer, a composer. I’m one who has struggled with mental health. I’m one who has watched others struggle with mental health. I’m one, like billions of others, who care about those who suffer. I see so many people desperately sad and discouraged, depressed. I want to do something. I hope I can reach a few of those in need of reaching. 

I have learned that when people ask for help, when they actively seek truth, they are more willing to glean truth wherever they search. It doesn’t have to come from a professional. Truth can be found in an untold number of places. I hope what I have to share will be helpful to you as one of your sources of truth as you seek to heal.

I invite you to join with me for a year dedicated to healing what needs healing in our lives, so we can renew hope, especially in ourselves. Let us look a little way into the future, just one year from now, and envision ourselves healthier mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally.

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I Don’t Know How to Heal!

I can tell you right where I was when the words formed themselves into a sentence: “I don’t know how to heal!”  I was outside where my little ones couldn’t hear me cry, under a blue sky, next to twin patches of daisies and quaking aspen in my front yard. It was several months after my husband’s two-year battle with cancer and he was gone. To no longer be able to look upon Matt’s face again for the rest of my life, was, oh, so hard, and I was desperately sad, overwhelmed by grief that didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t seem to go away. It was grief that just grew bigger and bigger. It was a hole of emptiness somewhere inside my chest that hurt abominably and kept growing.

The feelings were so consuming I wasn’t sure how to survive, let alone do all that needed to be done as a now-single mom of four, ages 3 to 8, at the time.

I’d been told time will heal your wounds, but it didn’t make sense to me. How could being separated from him longer make things better? I’d also been told to talk about my feelings. But, I already knew talking didn’t fill that hole and it couldn’t take away the pain.

I needed to heal, and I didn’t know how.

But something special happened out there, in front of my house that day. There was a calmness that came, as if on the breeze, and settled on me suddenly. And with that calm feeling, I sensed a message that was completely clear: You don’t have to know how to heal.

What?

You don’t have to know how to heal…because you were made to heal.

There was a little cut on my finger. As I looked down at it, I knew that message was true.

All I needed to do for my finger was keep the little wound clean so it wouldn’t become infected and my body would heal itself; it was made to heal itself. That hole in my chest, then, could heal, too. I didn’t have to know how to heal. There wasn’t something I needed to do to heal. I just needed to keep the area clean—free from bitterness or blame or whatever might infect it.

What a comfort and a blessing that little revelation was to me!  It set me free from a wretched, unproductive kind of worry that I couldn’t heal. It was a sweet outpouring of simple wisdom beyond my own, that helped me know I wasn’t alone. And, it was true. It was true for me. And it is true for others. Human beings are created with a remarkable ability to heal, and we don’t even have to know how.

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