Be ye transformed (one painful day at a time)

It has been two and a half years since I've awoken to the fact that my childhood was no as normal as I assumed and that I have major emotional and social issues to deal with as a result.  I'm doing much better in general, the worst of the grief is behind me and I'm learning healthy boundaries and social skills, though at times I still struggle and wonder if I've healed at all, I know I have but sometimes progress is hard to mark, especially when each milestone only seems to unveil some ugly, previously hidden revelation that only seems to make things worse.  Though I suppose it is the same healing a spiritual/emotional/psychological wound as it is a physical one: they usually look much worse before they look better.

There's that off-quoted verse, 'be ye transformed by the renewing of your minds,' yes, much of my memory work was done in the King's English so that's the way it comes out; wouldn't it be fun to have your inner thought life use a cool dialect or accent, Sean Connery anyone?  Anywho, I've always read that verse and wondered why things aren't wonderful right now, if I have a new mind and a new life, why am I still plagued by all these old demons?  Then I look at the baby on the floor across the room from me, not able to crawl yet let alone walk, she can as easily get across the room as I can fly, but in a few short months, after some growth and practice, she'll be treading that same expanse of carpet as easily as I do.  I'm also a bug enthusiast, which means butterflies and dragonflies and such frivolous things always mystify and intrigue me, most of all their growth from bizarre looking worms or aquatic aliens into delicate, intricate, marvelous masters of the air.  But they start life as the humblest and ugliest critters imaginable.  Growth and change in nature doesn't happen overnight, why should I think it would in the spiritual realm either?  Yes there can be miraculous cures to injuries, disease, wounds, addictions, and the like, but in general, miracles are defined as rare, thus most healing takes time, painful time.

Jesus couldn't avoid the cross nor Paul his 'thorn in the flesh,' while the ancient John languished in prison; what makes me any less prone to suffering, waiting, and inconvenience than they, the Savior and the great saints?  Why should I grow from infancy in the faith to mature and wise adult overnight?  It takes time to train the physical body in any discipline be it ballet or bull riding, how much more the soul?  Good thoughts all!  Not the 'instacure' our modern, impatient culture demands, but certainly a solace to those who languish under some affliction of body, mind, or soul.  'My grace is sufficient for thee,' is another of those phrases I remember in the King's English, and therein is peace indeed.