Five Minute Fridays (broken) and The Love Dare

I recently discovered Five Minute Fridays.  The writing prompt for it this week is broken.  I have been letting this word ruminate within me for the last few days.   This word, for me, is bigger than five minutes.  It encompasses so much of my self identity.  I often have felt as though I was born broken. This theme of broken-ness is splattered throughout my blog. 


My favorite verse is Psalms 34:17-18.  It has been my life verse since I saw it in a 12 step store when I was a teenager.  (side note I did not know it was a 12 step store and had no idea what 12 step even meant at the time. )

The Righteous cry out

and the Lord hears

and delivers them

 from all their troubles.

The Lord is near

to the broken-hearted

and saves those

who are crushed in spirit.

(paraphrased)

 



 

Easter weekend was great, until about Satruday evening.  My sister-in-law and family had come over to spend Friday and Saturday day with us and we had a lot of fun together.  After they left and Satur day turned into evening a cloud of darkness fell over me.  It was an utter feeling of broken sadness.  I hoped it was just exhaustion from the fun weekend.  I mean, I had said that Easter morning is when my boulder would be rolled away and my joy could spring out for goodness sake.  There was no room for this looming cloud if ick, what was my issue anyways I wondered.  Sunday morning came and the cloud was darker, heavier, and so encompassing.  All I wanted to do was crawl into a hole.  There was no boulder rolling, no joy springing, just blech. 

 

My husband had the day off of work unexpectedly and he wanted to go to church. (Small confession, we haven't been since Christmas.)  We woke up and the kids openened their Easter Baskets gift bags.  The ones that I had put together at midnight the night before after a last minute run to Walmart where everything had been picked clean already.  They were utilitarian this year to say the least.  Presents have been hard for me lately, because I don't want more stuff, they don't need more stuff, and none of us needs more sugar.  Each bag had about five to eight dollars worth of something fun, a little bit of candy, and a toothbrush (some un-wrapped, because I bought a multipack to keep the cost down).  As my middle daughter who is almost eleven opened hers she was saying each thing outloud in a dry monotone sort of way........"a candy bar, a snickers egg, some reese's eggs, an archie comic, an un-wrapped toothbrush...."  As she said  "un-wrapped toothbrush", my heart sank even more into the cloud.  I felt as though I had broken this fun Easter tradition.   I pushed back the tears and tried to see the humor in it all and choked out some laughter.

When all the bags had been gone through we got ready for church.  My husband asked what I would be wearing, so that he might match my level of dressed upedness, or lack thereof.  I told him normal clothes.  The children were varrying levels of attire.  There were no matching outfits, frilly dresses, or pretty white shoes to be had this year.  In fact all of my being wished that I had some ratty jeans, with holes everywhere to wear and it could be accompanied by some comfortable over-sized sweatshirt.  Because that attire would be honest.  Overly used holy jeans would be the truest representation of who I am.  The matching dresses, the fancy shoes, the crisp new clothes in spring colors, that is just shine.  It is wallpaper on a rotting wall.  Since I don't have jeans like that I wore something more churchy acceptable. I wore some newish dark jean capris and an over sized comfortable sweatshirt. (This being my definition of churchy acceptable is making me giggle as I type it out and read it in print.)

Before we left I used the bathroom and contemplated telling my husband that I wasn't going and to just take the kids on his own.  Afterall, how many Sundays upon Sundays in the past had I done the same for him?  I looked in the bathroom mirror and sighed.  "I am tired of this state of broken Lord.  Where is my spring of Joy?  I thought you were going to roll away some boulders here today, it is Easter afterall."  He spoke to my spirit and told me to go.  I don't really recall the words that came in, but the essence of them was to go anyways, despite my cloud of broken, so I went. 

I would love to tell you that as I sat there everything changed in an instant.  It didn't.  I stood during the songs, listened to the message, clapped for the baptisms.  And the cloud slowly dispersed bit by bit until it was more of a partially sunny forecast over my head instead of being overcast.  The actual weather outside was absolutely gorgeous.  Sunshine and 70's, mostly unheard of weather for Easter Sunday here in the NW. 

After church it was too nice to go home and face the messes a weekend of cousins and fun had made, so instead we took the kids on a pizza picnic to a local park and as I sat in the sunshine my partially sunny outlook became a little more sunny. 

I don't know what nuggets of wisdom, if any can be gleaned from this, other than to continue living even in the midst of the broken.  Broken doesn't have to mean burried.  I don't have to bury myself in my home, under the blankets to hide from my broken and I don't have to bury my broken in order to be out from the blankets.  Because those are my go to means of dealing with the broken.  Burying myself or burying it.  Maybe boulders are being rolled away here, just not the ones that I thought would be. 


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