This is not a “happy” story. It’s not a story about lasagna or green sweaters or cloth napkins. It’s a story about humanness. It’s a story about brokenness.
There are people I know who feel broken. I’m sure there are many more who are broken but have never shared it with anyone. I’m not talking about a broken heart—I’m talking about a broken spirit, when you feel like the LIFE has been sucked out of you. When the sun shines brightly outside your window but it’s dark in your home, in your mind, and in your heart. When you know that you have so many people who love you but you feel so alone. When you know you have value but you feel so devalued. When you know you have worth but you can’t count it. When you feel invisible, especially to the people who matter the most to you. When you feel you’ve lost, given up, or sacrificed part of yourself. When you’ve taken a chance and shared something important, something profound, something risky and it’s fallen on deaf ears.
How much damage is done in our own homes or in our own relationships? Everything that we say or don’t say, do or don’t do, honor or don’t honor, changes our reality.
We’ve all heard the painful, sad stories about a young person, bullied one time too many, taking his or her own life. We’ve also heard stories where someone was ready to “jump off the bridge” and one simple act of love stopped that. Maybe that person ran into a grocery store clerk who was kind, or a person passed on the street and smiled or someone simply said, “you matter”. Maybe that person recognized brokenness in another, and forget his or her pain and reached out to share love.
What if someone risks being vulnerable and is discounted? How long will it take for that heart to share again? If you don’t feel safe, the walls of hurt can build up so high that you forget your place in the world, you forget what was important to you, you forget to be true to your spirit, you forget to honor the God part of you.
If we drop a teacup and the pieces are large it’s pretty easy to glue it back together. If we’re really good at it others won’t even know where it’s been repaired. But, if it shatters when it hits the floor and the pieces are tiny, it’s tougher. With a lot of patience you might be able to finally glue it together but it’ll never be the same. Sometimes that “never the same” is good because it makes it more interesting, more “real”. Often, I’m afraid, it simply becomes a broken teacup.
I’ve been like that broken teacup. At times I’ve given up thinking that I could be glued back together.
We have to believe in ourselves enough to “repair” the broken. A teacup may still be serviceable without its handle but it’s harder to hold, and it’s not complete. We’re serviceable too, missing a part of ourselves, but we’re not complete.
It took over 50 years to realize how broken I’ve been at times—how broken I sometimes am.
The broken spirit says, “I feel used up and discarded. I feel afraid. I feel it’s not safe. I feel unloved. I am truly broken. I’m down on the floor sobbing, pleading, ‘Lift me up. Hear me. HEAR me. Don’t pay lip service to me. Don’t trivialize me. Don’t give me an answer to shut me up, to shut me out, to feel better about yourself.’ I feel like I’m a child again, powerless and afraid. Please hear me. Please see me. I have value.”
Please don’t make promises to someone you don’t intend to keep.
Please don’t give answers that are “appropriate” if they’re not sincere.
Please don’t sit in stony silence when someone allows himself or herself to be vulnerable.
Please be “real” with each other.
What if we fail to acknowledge the humanity of each other…….
in our world
in our countries
in our businesses
in our churches
in our organizations
in our neighborhoods
in our relationships
in our homes
God help us.
God, please help us.
We can all be broken.
We can all be put back together. We just need to believe it.
©2014 peace full home/intentional living
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