“Jesus is God’s wounded healer: through his wounds we are healed. Jesus’ suffering and death brought joy and life. His humiliation brought glory; his rejection brought a community of love. As followers of Jesus we can also allow our wounds to bring healing to others.”  Henri Nouwen

Each spring my backyard becomes home to a host of critters who are a continual source of delight to me.

For the past two years my favorite has been the hyperactive squirrel who seemed to rejoice, in his own squirrel way, in being alive. He had a penchant for sliding across canvas awnings, swinging in the neighbor’s hanging planters, and jumping up on my patio table to join me for coffee when I was least expecting it.

This season there is a different squirrel, one that doesn’t do much sliding or swinging. And when he does run, it’s with the characteristic of a crab, always stage right. Obviously, he is wounded.

I noticed him one morning, picking up a peanut from under my lawn chair. He seemed to be listing, like he was drunk. Occasionally he would lose his balance and hit the frame of the chair. I thought he was just having a bad day. But later, as I watched him try to sit on his hind legs to eat another peanut, he fell over sideways, a tiny version of Arte Johnson on “Laugh In” when he used to fall over with that little tricycle.

It was funny, but worrisome. I went outside to see if he was okay, and then I realized that, though he was lying on his side, he was still eating the peanut. When he was done, he got up, found another peanut and promptly fell over sideways again.

Some mornings I would open the door and find him just lying on his side very still. I would worry that he had finally succumb to his wounds. But always on closer inspection I would see him nibbling away on a peanut, almost as if he had mastered the art of reclining at table.

I looked at this little creature of God with admiration, considering how I have not always been able to adapt to my wounds and just get on with life, which in his case meant making sure he had enough nourishment every day.

As human beings we are often sidetracked by any number of wounds. Our lives may come to a grinding halt. Our work and relationships suffer, our growth stops, our compass for self-nurturing no longer points north. Sometimes we deny the wound because we feel shame or anger. Sometimes we allow the wound to become who we are, identifying always with the pain rather than the possibilities. When this happens, fear of becoming someone new prevents us from simply becoming, and healing never happens.

When I was suffering with depression, I eventually felt called to share my journey publicly because I had discovered how many people suffer needlessly in silence, without support or professional help because they are ashamed to acknowledge their disease.

I was worried that my admission would jeopardize my job, and was letting fear make my decision for me. My spiritual director reminded me that no one had to experience more shame than Jesus, hanging naked on the cross, perceived by all who knew him, as a failure. I should embrace this Jesus as my strength. So I did.

Henri Nouwen wrote: “Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not ‘How can we hide our wounds?’ so we don’t have to be embarrassed, but ‘How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?’ When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.”

Each day I am grateful for the lessons my Father provides, especially through the smallest of his creatures, who teach me not only what is, but what should be. In spending some time each morning with my wounded furry friend I am reminded that once our wounds have been healed, it is not enough for us to simply gather our own supply of peanuts each day. We are called to share the bounty; to love others as we love ourselves, wounds and all.