Broken. Blessed.

Broken
It’s Friday and I feel broken. Broken by two cars needing towed on the same day… one without brakes, one with a flat tire. Broken by numerous phone calls explaining how and why the work on my car should be done for free… often to ears broken by greed. I feel broken by a system that is shrouded in electrical mystery, a world I don’t understand and therefore which puts me at the disadvantage. I couldn’t look at my radiator and tell you whether or not it is leaking? But that is the claim and the cost to repair it leaves me broken.

Broken hearted too. Broken because in the midst of this mess, hubby is working until midnight every night and leaving at the crack of dawn. Sustainable? No. Broken bits of relationship flaking off like so much ice melting off a polar ice sheet. My rock, my adult time, my friend. I miss him. And the devil wants to plant nasty, even more broken, useless thoughts. Guard my heart Lord.

Broken. My dad’s body. Congestive heart failure, lymphedema, peripheral neuropathy, sleep apnea, pulmonary issues, potentially Parkinson’s disease. How much can one body take? Crushing disease that crushes more than flesh, that crushes ability, freedom, independence, joy, and leads to despair and lengthy phone calls to me, on the other side of the country, where I can pray, wring hands, sulk, stew, and feel broken and useless to help.

Broken kids. They’re healthy enough, have enough, want for nothing… except for grace for each other, contentedness, and the right pair of goggles. Screaming is our method of communicating as if the heat has deadened sound waves and our ears are filled with the cotton of exhaustion. Broken bits of childhood joy lost, dripping down the side of summer. Be careful, the cone bottom is getting soggy. When it lets go, disaster! We teeter on this balance beam of ice cream disaster, one small tilt and I’m convinced the kids will never be the same, even after years of therapy. Don’t cry over spilled milk? What if it is all spilling?

Broken brain, spirit, imagination. Used up Kleenex that I am. Given out. I am the spilled milk all over the floor. Done. Anxious, exhausted, fighting battles that feel futile. Boring, a wash, frumpy, dowdy, spacey, callous, judgmental, a firecracker with the shortest fuse and nothing but smoke and bluster… these are my companion adjectives. Old friends who overstay their welcome, these words smell like days old fish, the kind of smell that won’t leave despite numerous washings and purgings. The kind of smell wafting from the kitchen sink right now. Me…wanting nothing more than a chair on a beach and hours to sit idle, to rekindle joy in the charred house of my heart, to feel loved, appreciated, accepted, good enough. But broken.

It’s Friday, and I feel blessed. Blessed that the brakes went out over night, in the garage, before I left the driveway. Blessed that the flat tire was noticed before hubby hit the highway. Blessed that while car repairs are unforeseen expenses and fancy cars require fancy repairs we’re not broken and destitute. Skimp here, pinch there. We’ll be fine. God will provide.
Blessed by work. Good steady work. “The world will always need accountants.” Work that pays for a comfy lifestyle, provides meaning and satisfaction, offers opportunity and expansion both personal and professional. Blessed by 18 years that have seen harder seasons than this. Blessed that the bedrock of our relationship is not ice, but God. No sinking sand for us. Blessed because God has provided.

Blessed by my dad’s life. During a week where hubby’s friend’s dad died and my friend’s mom died, blessed that he is still a phone call away. Blessed that I can listen, ship food, and pray. Blessed by memory and teachings and example and the handing on of an assurance of heaven reunions no matter what… reunions without brokenness and tears… at the feet of a heavenly king who too knew brokenness, who accepted it, carried it, and squashed it. Oh death where is thy sting? Blessed because God is walking this path, too.

Blessed. Sleeping angels in their beds while I pour out my heart. Blessed rest and the potential for a day of peace. Blessed health, blessed growth, blessed maturation, blessed foundation. Their births were rocky, squeezed in as they were between babies who died and a mommy’s body that didn’t hold pregnancy well. Sleeping angels, guarded by angels, who will cover with kisses, snuggle closer, listen and obey a mommy they love and who does in fact love them back even while disciplining. Blessed children, a gift from God, given hearts that are sensitive, emotional, strong. God will protect.

Blessed. Because. There could have been so many more awful things this week, but God sometimes walked us through the fire, sometimes averted the fire, promises to bring us home someday through the fire. Blessed because I can write this out, sip my cup of tea, stare at the trees, laze about this morning, really not have to worry. Because I am beautiful in God’s eyes, He created me, and He has given me purpose… mother, wife, daughter, friend, and Compassion Tea. Because when I hear the stories from the clinics in Africa my first world problems though large become smaller. Survival, necessity, hunger, cruelty, depravity, disease without medicine… without treatment, these adjectives are not mine but theirs. And I feel blessed that I can in minute ways alleviate these adjectives. Blessed to have a FATHER, an ABBA, who saw yesterday, sees today, and knows tomorrow and who is weaving it all together… me, them, America, Africa, bounty, blessing, beauty… who takes broken and heals it… who takes broken and blesses it. Blessed.

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3 Comments

  1. Kelly McIntosh

     /  July 26, 2013

    Wow! what a writer u r!! no “time” to read this morn or so i thought …until i got “sucked in… to the brokenness!”.

    But waiting for the “ending”… And it was worth it!!

    reunions without brokenness and tears… at the feet of a heavenly king who too knew brokenness, who accepted it, carried it, and squashed it. Oh death where is thy sting? Blessed because God is walking this path, too.

    Grateful for His hand along the journey… And your blog! 🙂

    Kelly

    Reply
  2. Beautifully written Linda and so true are your words! Praise God that he listens to us as we pour our hearts out to him. For now, I am grateful for your heart pouring out and that I am your friend and you are beautiful and appreciated. Keep fighting the good fight my friend! Love, Jen Allan

    Reply
  3. Amazing writing, amazing God, amazing healing powers He blesses us with. Thank you!~ Lisa Lee

    Reply

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