I have been mulling over this word Brokenness for two weeks trying to prepare for the blog carnival over at Bridget Chumbley’s site. It’s really been difficult to decide what to write and I had honestly given up thinking I was to write a post this week when I ran across another blog today that gave me my answer. So, here are my thoughts on Brokenness.
Brokenness, as described in Miriam Webster’s Dictionary, is “violently separated into parts: shattered; damaged or altered by breaking; made weak or infirm; cut off; not complete or full; disunited by divorce, separation, or desertion”.
I find it interesting that brokenness is not just something broken into pieces, but in the very first definition, it states that it is violently separated: shattered. When we are broken, it is a violent separation/a shattering. Brokenness is not easy and it’s not painless.
When I was 18, I was engaged to be married to a man who I knew was my soul mate, whom I had dated most of my teenage years, until one day that phone call came where I was told that it was over. My heart shattered immediately, so much so that I could not even finish the conversation and had to hand the phone off to my dad. I felt as if everything inside of my had just shattered into a million pieces with no way to put it all back together again. After a very, way too short, time of crying, I pushed all of that aside, down into a corner of my heart and mind, and refused to deal with it. Several years later, after a few boyfriends who were either crazy or didn’t amount to anything else than a short romance, I found myself engaged to number one again. There is a long story here, but suffice it to say, I thought it would work this time, only to find out, yet again, that it was over. Once again, I was shattered. I was in college at the time and my world fell apart so hard that I had to withdraw and move home. But again, I shoved it all deep down, into that place where all my other hurts, fears, and things I needed to deal with dwelled.
In 2001 I married my sons father. We immediately moved to California where he was stationed in the Marine Corps and had, what I thought, was a great first year. We had issues and problems to work out, but who didn’t? I thought we were happy…love is blind. In December of that year, he was scheduled to leave for a six month deployment to Japan. We went home to Texas or a couple of weeks to get me settled into an apartment and spend an early Christmas with family before he left. Christmas Eve, the day he was leaving to head to California before deployment, I found out I was pregnant. I was so excited that my dreams of having a complete family were finally coming true. Little did I realize that it would all come crashing to a screeching halt. When my son was seven months old, we were headed for a divorce. and yet again, I was violently shattered.
Several years and several dead-end and dead beat boyfriends later, I finally hit a place of being OK being alone. But the kicker here is that I never really dealt with anything from the past. I never allowed myself to grieve. I didn’t have time to cry, didn’t have time to not be OK; at least that is what I told myself.. There was no way I could let myself go there. But God had other plans. He brought me to a place that I saw that I had to grieve the loss of that dream…the dream of having a family and keeping it together. I had to get to the place where I was willing to recognize that I was broken and to let God pick me up and put me back together again.
Have you ever dropped a glass or a vase and instead of just breaking into pieces that you might be able to fix, it shattered? It became dust on the floor with little pieces everywhere. In fact, when you went to clean it up, you found out that there were pieces hiding under the cabinet, two feet away from the place you dropped the vase? And then a week later, you found a piece in the bottom of your foot when you walked through the kitchen? With all those little, tiny pieces, there is no way humanly possible that you could put that vase back together again.The same goes for our hearts…for my heart. I couldn’t put it back together again. I was broken, living in brokenness, and I couldn’t fix it. I could cry, I could be hurt, I could want to make it better, but I couldn’t fix it.
Only God can put the shattered heart back together again.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wound.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those who are crushed in spirit.
God desires to bind up our wounds and rescue us. He wants to be our Daddy-God and make it all better. When we were kids and we would scrape our knee, we would run to our daddy (or mother) and cry our eyes out because we were hurting. After some cleaning, a band-aid and many, many hugs and kisses, we were better, right? God wants us to do the same to Him. When we are hurting, shattered into a million pieces and laying on the ground bleeding, God wants us to just call His name. He’ll immediately be there bandaging our hearts and healing us. He’ll hold us while we cry and He’ll show us a way back to whole.
You know, even though I grew up in the church and knew the answers to this process well, it has taken me many years to get to this place of allowing my brokenness to be healed by God. I’m not completely there, but I am in the process and I’m learning to lean on Him for the rest.
This post has been part of a blog carnival at Bridget Chumbley’s site. For more stories on Brokenness and other great blogs, please visit http://www.bridgetchumbley.com/2010/09/brokenness-blog-carnival/.