Mending Broken Pieces

“So bow down under God’s strong hand; then when the time comes, God will lift you up. Since God cares for you, let Him carry all your burdens and worries.”

(1 Peter 5: 6-7 The Voice)

            Over three years ago, my heart began breaking as my parents and Alan struggled with illnesses and then death. This week, the second anniversary of Alan’s death, was difficult. I thought it would be easier than last year but grief doesn’t watch the calendar. This morning I found a writing from a few months ago which describes my continuing journey.

            The illnesses and deaths of my parents and husband, left my heart in tatters. I limped along with just enough strength to sustain me but not enough to live fully.

            Over time, God pulled the shattered pieces together to cover the voids left by their absences. Just as it seemed that my heart was healing, a memory, memorable date, picture, or song ripped the scabs apart. Grief returned as blood and tears flowed.

            Gradually, new scabs formed. The process quickened as new memories helped fill the holes. God’s strength and comfort cushioned my bleeding heart.

            Days, weeks, months, and years passed. As my heart mended, tears slowed. Loneliness would slip away for a while. I felt almost normal again. But then I would be battered like a violent storm. Often with no warning, extreme pain clutched my fragile heart in a vise.

            For a while, I felt as splintered and damaged as when grief first attacked me. However, with each temporary setback, recovery didn’t take quite as long.

            Short bursts of happiness showed up. Laughter mixed with tears. Kindness, compassion, and hugs boosted the healing.

            At one time, I wondered if joy would ever return, but one day it happened. Joy from God returned in hysterical laughter with a dear friend. Surprisingly, tears of happiness ran down my cheeks. She had often cried with me and in years past, laughed with me. That day we enjoyed life like it used to be.

            That awesome time brought revelation to me. I was indeed mending. I knew my still fragile heart was stronger and starting to go forward.

            As my wounded heart slowly heals, God has increased my compassion for others who are suffering-especially those facing their own grief. I never would have chosen a ministry to the grieving but that is what I have been given. He knew that reaching out to others mends my own heart.

Faithful Father, thank you for the comfort you have given me. Guide me as I use my pain to comfort others. Amen