BROKEN

She called me “broken” on the phone. It made my whole being wince. Was I? I heard her words as an assessment of failure. I anxiously wondered if others also saw me as falling apart. Coming undone. Fragmented. I envisioned myself as a puddle containing bits and pieces of what was once a strong proud soul. I felt shook to my very core.

I took the whole next day to sort it out. This is one of the blessings of being retired. The time to truly reflect. To CLOSELY examine oneself. To take a good long hard look. To be rigorously honest about how you are in point of fact doing, or in this case, being. I did not need to rationalize her words, nor run away from them, or stuff them with food or drink or both. I would just let myself think it over.

I am broken. Not in half, but there are large shards that have been chipped away over the past few years. I am not nearly as confident. I feel wary of the opinion of others. Suspicious of their judgments, even when they appear to be positive. I am anxious. I fret a lot. I dwell on the negative. I do not feel a good deal of hope. I have always been a worrier, but now I feel coated in a vile leprosy of worry warts from head to toe.

My wife is gone. My wish to make a huge difference at my home church, was whittled down to a few shavings. My body feels angry with me, and ready to break its trust at any given moment. I don’t seem able to shed the pounds I so badly need to lose. My spirit feels as though it is approaching bankruptcy. I have to talk myself into enjoying each day.

It is no great puzzle, the shape I am in. I have endured a lot these last three years. The horrid shriveling death of my wife. A ministry that tripped and skinned its knee and was left there whimpering. Two good friends battling cancer. A body neglected, giving me the wake-up call of open heart surgery. My knees, now barely able to carry my excess weight. Three very humbling years.

My soul limps along. No need for a cast. However, my spirit feels the pain of carrying too many burdens, and I am too exhausted to lift much for much longer. I am a bit broken. Not shattered. Not ruined. I just am not whole these days. I do my best, but it takes much more time to get even less done. I am frustrated. I yearn to be young and recklessly hopeful again. But, I know too much, and am just too aware.

As I spend this day reflecting upon my broken Self, I choose to go for a ride out into the country. It is early Autumn, and this is the first cool to cold day. It feels heavenly to me, and I keep my windows open wide. I look to capture photos of the first changing colors of the season. I find two green trees, each smeared with burnt orange tops.

I am calm on this drive. Content. Conscious that I am growing closer to my God. This troubled time has ironically created true spiritual intimacy. I have chosen ample solitude to be alone with my thoughts and feelings, which is often to be with God. I recognize in one single lovely moment, that my brokenness has sought healing in the Grace of God. I have at least been wise enough to turn to God for relief and a burst of new energy and life.

I have an image come to mind. It is the concept of grafting on Grace. Though I cannot or fully replace the broken parts of my soul, I can graft them on as Grace. I can surrender. I can wave the white flag. I can let go. I can affirm that God alone is in charge, and God alone will enable me to function as a whole being. God will take over when and where I cannot.

In Colossians, we are told to wear Christ like a cloak. To put him on, and wear him. To wear Christ’s compassion, kindness, patience, courage, and love, when we cannot do it ourselves. Well, this past three years I have learned I cannot do it myself. The grafting on of Grace is my only alternative.

The clean air is blowing in my face. The sun is setting, heralding the colors which will soon douse the earth. I feel solid. Fully alive. Broken, but repaired. A spirit with a limp, but still capable of following. Now walking the walk. Broken but beautiful. Glued tightly and evenly, so nobody will notice. Only I know that I am held together by the unconditional love and forgiveness of a most merciful God.