Being broken is not the end of the story. It’s what happens next, after the breaking, that makes us who we are in the long run.
Once more, I’m taking five minutes with the Five Minute Friday #fmfparty gang to write unedited on a theme sent out by Kate Motaung. The word-prompt today is BREAK. (You can join in too – here’s how.)
It can happen so quietly. A heart can be crushed and no-one would notice. It’s usually the one who does it has no idea, and while thoughtless, careless words and actions have their way, she dies quietly inside.
The lights in her eyes go out. The spring in her step turns to a leaden shuffle. Shoulders stoop, and the clouds cover her sunlight sky.
She hardly knows what has happened to her either. She just knows that it hurts, and that there’s no more in her to tug at the reins or keep pressing forward.
The commitment she had yesterday to press through the problems has evaporated. The vision she once relied on has turned out to be yet one more pipe dream. Direction is lost, hope is lost. Joy is lost.
Like a horse that lies down exhausted in the summer heat, we find ourselves lying down under the blows of the Almighty, humbled and spent. There’s no more kicking against the goads…
… and at the point of breakdown, there’s hope for a break through. The exhaustion of fighting circumstances in anger gives way to a sort of restful relinquishment. Maybe even, after the tears of frustration and despair are shed, maybe even a sort of peace?
In our moments of doubt and transparent complaint, the Owner of our souls draws near, to stroke our wild manes and wipe down our foamy hide – fully intent on bringing the Wild One into service. He tends the wounds we received as we kicked at the fences.
He raises us up, touches us tenderly, and connects. And in that connection, the fight is forgotten. All that matters is that we belong to Him.