"Maybe Randy has some in his room."
"Uh, probably not."
"Well, I'll check." Although I knew that finding any thing useful in my older son's room was low of the probability scale, I entered.
"Never mind Mom, I'll just borrow some at school." Chris ran down the stairs two at a time. Drama! (Girls, do NOT have a market on this.)
"Have a good"...door slam..."day." Turning to leave the bedroom, I spied an electrical chord snaking from the closet. Odd, I thought...(I'm very perceptive, even early in the morning.) Why would Randy need electricity in his closet? I slide the door open.
Inside, a rug hung decoratively on the end wall. So, being the perceptive, early morning person that I was, I yanked it down.
There to my wondering eyes did appear...no reindeer...but a 3' by 3' gaping hole, neatly cut from the wallboard. By then, my mouth had fallen open nearly as wide. "Whaaaaaaaaaaa? (I should mention that I'm NOT as articulate as I am perceptive, early in the morning.)
Once inside I stood...on wooden floors. Previously the attic did not have a floor! How clever these little men. "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?" More astute articulation. Well now, my lovely country home had a cave room. Not only that, but my children had kept a secret room from both their parents. Well lit, but well hidden.
My heart skipped several beats fearing I might find questionable reading material or a stash of cigarettes. Insead I found a couple of old chip bags, a dirty glass and a dried apple core that looked remarkably like Elvis...the old Elvis.
I promise that the above story is true as I remember it. O.K., the apple core did not really look like Elvis...more like Judy Garland...the old Judy Garland.
At the time I found the cave room, I was a brand new Christian, earnestly pursuing what it meant to be a born-again Christian. I was finding deep healing from my past within a relationship with Jesus, yet there were places I just didn't want to go. My secret rooms had doors with signs that read, "Do not enter...too much pain inside."
God knew what those rooms contained, and He offered me His hand to hold. "Come Sharon, and I will give you rest." One by one, the contents of those secret rooms were brought into the light of God's healing power. Through trust I experienced deep and abiding healing. I'd been waiting for thirty-eight years.
When Jesus asks us to deal with our secrets, it's not to shame us or heap on more guilt. His purpose is to make us whole in Him. "Not by might and not by power, but by My Spirit, says the Lord," became my life scripture.
There are times I still try to hide, but there is no place that God is not will to go to bring me more healing. That's a promise good to the day He returns, or calls me Home.
I don't know about you, but for me it took more energy to keep the secrets than to deal with them. I've learned that healing is God's business and His passion.
How about you? How long will you keep your secrets?