Broken.

So those of you that know me know that I don't like to cover up my true feelings. I wear my thoughts and feelings on my face. Rarely do you have to wonder what I am thinking. However, since my Mom died, it has been more difficult to be "real". When people ask how I'm doing, I say "I'm hanging in there" and I am...kind of. I say "I'm alright" and at that moment I probably am. However, there are days when I feel like the pain is suffocating. I literally can't breathe because it is pressing down on my chest so hard. I am angry, sometimes full of rage. I want an explanation from God, and when I ask for one there is usually a long silence and then I hear the faintest whisper saying "I am here. Lay your burdens at my feet sweet daughter. I look on you with love and I am weeping too." Then I ask "what is your purpose with this? My heart is broken, don't you care?" My God replies "I do. I am putting you back together. Trust me." We end this conversation and I go on.

A few days ago I was reading a grieving mother's blog and I read this post (The rest of this post will make more sense if you read her post first) I had expressed to Amanda a while back that I wanted to break some pottery so I could just get this frustration out and deal with it. However, I chose not to at the time. After reading this mother's post, I decided now was the time. I had just attended my Dad's wedding and I was feeling the weight of the past year on my shoulders. So at 10:00 pm on a Saturday night, I went out to my front porch and smashed a cup that my Mom had given me with a tea pot a long time ago. I drank out the cup a lot, it was special to me, and I knew it was the one.



It felt so good to smash it, but I knew before I smashed it that I would be putting it back together. I wanted to go through the process no matter how long it took me. I looked at the pieces and began to sob. It really was me on my front porch. Just laying there in tiny pieces waiting to be put back together.




I went to work, putting it back together. I started to panic at one point, I didn't think that I could do it. I prayed for God to help me. My hands fumbled around for the right pieces. I was having trouble seeing through the tears, but I pressed on. I thought about why I am broken...

I thought about my past and how I regretted it. I asked God to heal the places that remained unhealed.

I thought about my Mom, about how much I love her and how I miss her terribly. I asked God to see me through my grief.

I thought about my Dad. I asked God to mend our relationship.

I thought about the things that make me bitter, and what I do when bitterness threatens me. I asked for forgiveness.

I thought about Jesus. Nailed on a cross. Broken for my sins. The punishment that brought me peace was upon HIM, by HIS wounds I am healed. I am put back together. Grace. Amazing Amazing Grace.

So here is my mug, put back together. It sits in my kitchen to remind me, of my brokenness and that God is making me whole again.






For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. 2 Corinthians 4:6

My heart may be broken, but I pray that his light that is in my heart will shine bolder and brighter out of the cracks.

Love to you all,
Abby