I’m a fan of the Twilight books. We have established that in a previous post. But, honestly, I haven’t shared half of the spiritual significance I found in those books. Mostly because of the fact that it is intensely personal to me, but partially because I know I’d sound a bit fixated to you (yes, all 3 of you who may read this).

I’m choosing to overlook those concerns because one part of the book has been stirring/whirling/holding a rave inside of me for the past week and I think the only way it will stop is if I write about it. It is incumbent on me to warn those of who’ve not yet read the second book in the quadrology (word, please?) that there are plot spoilers ahead, so stop reading now if you want to preserve the surprise of the plot line.

Spoilers, begin:

Those who have read New Moon know the intense pain and suffering our heroine, Bella Swan, endures when Edward, her vampire soul mate & true love, leaves her. Her whole life, for 7 months, becomes a struggle to endure, and then ignore, the pain. In that time, she does not allow herself to think of or speak of Edward, his family, or anything that may remind her of their time together, fearing this will bring back the gaping “hole in her chest” that seems to cause her both emotional and physical pain. At the same time, she fears forgetting Edward: the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, the smell of his breath, the feeling of his skin; as this would fulfill his last promise: “it will be as if I’d never existed.” Succinctly put, she is “forbidden to remember, terrified to forget.”

Later in the book, when Edward’s life is in danger, Bella rushes to rescue him. Panting, shouting, and splashing through a fountain, she races toward him, forgetting everything he’s put her through in the past 7 months of his absence. What happens here cannot be paraphrased. I’m copying it from the book’s preface:

I knew that we were both in mortal danger.

Still, in that instant, I felt well.

Whole.

I could feel my heart racing in my chest,

the blood pulsing hot and fast through my veins again.

My lungs filled deep with the sweet scent that came off his skin.

It was like there had never been any hole in my chest.

I was perfect—not healed, but as if

there had never been a wound in the first place.

I have to tell you that as someone who has experienced the tangible nearness and euphoria that is the presence of God, I understand Bella Swan. To spend time with a supernatural being and to be the object of his nearness, attentiveness, and affection is intoxicating.

To then go through a time of his withdrawal, of separation (sometimes referred to as a “wilderness experience”), can be devastating. It was to me. Often, to remember the times of intimacy with God were, indeed, like a fiery hole in my chest. So, when I read this part of the story, I was grieving with her.

But the time did come that I found myself colliding with God again. And I’ll tell you, it is exactly what is described in the book. It is truly as if there was no wound, no sadness, no loss. It’s as if there was never any whole in my chest.

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