5 minute friday:Broken. And I cheated this time, more than 5 minutes

5 minute Friday. The word is broken. The assignment. Write 5 minutes. And then stop.
Well, I started and I did not stop but it's where I am. I needed to finish.

 Broken. A broken vase, a broken car, a broken chair, a broken arm, a broken home, a broken heart:  A broken heart. A hurt so deep and strong you are not sure your next breath will come. A silent pain that no one can fix. In a room full of people the hurt is so deep  I feel alone. Broken. In a van full of laughing, singing, and talking little princesses silent, hot, and forbidden tears begin to flow as I  wonder what might have been. When the sweet toddler needs a cuddle I have a catch in my throat knowing what a blessing she is and aching for the losses. While they are skipping, singing, playing, jumping, and sliding at the park I remind myself to enjoy them. To be in the moment while I feel overwhelmed by the joy they are and the sadness in my heart: broken.

My heart so full of love. So full of life's joys yet it feels empty as well. There is no easy explanation, just a brokenness. Nothing fixable, a deep raw hurt that a bandaid, a bandage, or "well meaning words" won't heal. Life goes on and moves fast even when I feel like it's standing still: it doesn't wait. It doesn't wait for anything or anyone. The broken heart keeps beating. I'm reminded to put one foot in front of the other, enjoy life. And I do. I enjoy my babies, my husband, my God. I love my friends and my church family. I celebrate life with them and morn loses with them. All the while, I grieve. A hug from the husband brings tears, sometimes his, mostly mine. But he's patient and loving, and grieving: he's broken too. A smile from a child hurts my heart. The smell of a newborn makes my arms ache. Among the joy there is pain; brokenness.

I've learned one thing recently. I feel guilty. I feel guilty for grieving. For so many reasons but mainly for the people in my life that like to  press me to move on to get over it and forget. They either say outright rude things or use passive aggressive words to say that others have it worse and I should really just be ok. And while in everyone else's eyes maybe I should; I'm not. I need to let the guilt go and let myself process and hurt while walking with Christ in worship. He gave us emotions and the deep ability to love.  And i loved. We loved, we lost and we must let go, but we won't forget. A broken heart doesn't mean my life stops, I don't stop feeling, but at the surface of all of my emotions is sadness. Sadness wrapped in joy.


I have Joy that through Christ I need not stay broken. His sweet mercies are new every morning. Even if the middle of the night seems hopeless and dark, his joy comes in the morning. His love never fails. And if anyone knows what it's like to be broken, it's Jesus. He was broken for me. I don't understand it and I can't comprehend it, but I believe it. I know it's true. Through his wounds( his brokenness) we are healed. Healed. Whole. Made new.

And, Jesus is enough. Leaning on Him, trusting in Him, letting Him love me. He is enough. But He didn't promise life without pain. He actually promised life with pain, He just promised to sustain us. This is where I am, broken and hurting, but knowing that My reedemer lives. And I know I can make it through this process. My house may be a little messier than usual, my smile might fade much quicker, my ability to stay in a crowd might not be very strong, it may take me a few extra minutes to find a song to worship with, I may get frustrated much eaiser, and count the hours til I can just sleep a while, but I know he promises beauty from ashes.


The Spirit of the Lord  God  is upon me, because the  Lord  has  anointed me to bring good news to 
the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and  theopening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the  Lord 's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the  Lord ,  that he may be glorified. (Isaiah 61:1-3 ESV)

To go from being broken to an oak of righteousness planted by the Lord will be amazing. The process may be painful but the end will be beautiful. And God will be glorified.