A Secret Kept

quiet zone

Once someone told me a secret. And no, I’m not going to tell you what it is. But trust me. It was a doozie.

It wasn’t a secret that isn’t really a secret like, “I’m a perfectionist.” Or a secret that is odd but inconsequential like, “I loved Riverdance.” Which I did.

Or even a secret about a stupid wrongdoing like, “I stole a bath mat from the hotel where I stayed on a j-school trip to New York my senior year of undergrad and felt guilty about it in my late-20s so I donated it to Goodwill as penance because I was too embarrassed to mail it back to the hotel.” Whew! Run-on, girl. Feel better now?

No, not that kind of secret. This secret was destructive. If it went public, it would wreak havoc on unsuspecting lives. It had to be resolved between the transgressor and the transgressed against. Now I, the confidant, was in the mix. 

Time went by. Things happened. Life continued. No one said a word. I held that secret for about three years. As far as I know, I was and may still be the only one the person told.

It burned like hot coal inside, charring my resources. A heavy anchor, pulling me down, down, down.

“What is it, Aimee?” a friend finally said.

“It’s a secret,” I said. “I think I’m the only one who knows.”

“You have to share it,” she said, “or it will destroy you.”

She was a safe person, a third party who didn’t know the others involved. I told her the truth. And the weight I carried lifted, buoyed up by my sobbing. It still hurt, but it no longer crushed me.

“You have to tell your husband,” she said.

“No,” I said. “He knows these people. I can’t tell him.”

“He loves you. He can help you bear it.”

stationery anchor

So through tears I told him, and she was right. He helps me bear it to this day.

A secret kept is a powerful thing. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you can carry one without paying for it.

You don’t have to broadcast it on Jerry Springer, but you have to shine a little light on it. Bring it out into the open. Take away the weight of its secrecy.

Let someone safe—someone who loves you, bear it with you. Or help you face the transgressor. Or sob alongside you. And feel it lift, then fall away.

You have set our iniquities before You, our secret sins in the light of Your presence. Psalm 90:8 NIV

The Newsboys’ song Million Pieces is apropos. Not sure what’s with the fuzzy quality of this video. Chalk it up to “artistic treatment.” Love the song anyway and couldn’t resist the flying pink elephants. This is not your floor/You’re going higher than before…

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6 Responses to A Secret Kept

  1. Ginger Price

    This is good advice, I have one of these hot coals I am carrying. It makes my eyes brim with tears and my stomach upset, I think sharing it with the right person will help lift the load. Thanks Aimee.

    • Oh, Ginger! I feel for you. I don’t mean to open Pandora’s box here, but I have to tell it like it is or at least has been for me. I was trying to carry something that was way too heavy. And it wasn’t even mine to carry in the first place. Take a deep breath and go to the right person, my friend. God be with you…

  2. Aimee,

    Wonderful post dear friend….and one I relate to all too well. Sorry I have not posted comments lately but we have been horribly busy and time has been short. I am still faithfully reading and enjoying every last literary morsel.

    I only wish you and I had spent some time back in the day sharing our love of words. I had no idea you loved writing so much and would have totally enjoyed some word-game parties and writing conversations. I seem to remember you saying you were good at Scrabble? To this I say……

    Bring it…I have yet to lose….ever.

    I would love a match someday. You seem like a formidable opponent!

    God bless you always….