The Healed Heart Story

It all began in brokenness. I curled up in my big burgundy chair, blanket wrapped tightly around me with a hot cup of coffee, and the weight of the world so heavy it felt like it was more than I could bear. Reaching for my journal, I poured out my heart to the Lord. Normally, after dumping out all the pain, I could shift my focus to Jesus and the truths found in His Word. But this time, the weight seemed too heavy! The brokenness, too severe! The hope of getting to the other side from my pain to healing was questionable at best.

Tears flowed as I talked to God out loud and I began to draw…

 

… A large, lopsided heart. “Lord, my heart is badly wounded. It hurts so much and it doesn’t appear that there will be recovery any time soon.”

… A jagged line down the middle of the heart, breaking it in two. “God, the pain is so deep. This heart, broken in half does not even begin to convey the brokenness that I feel.”

… Another jagged line horizontally, breaking the heart further into four quadrants. “How many times can my heart break before there is no hope? How do I press on?”

 

My prayer continued as I listed bullet points in each section that summed up the pain at various times of my life.

 

In the first quadrant I wrote:

  • molestation,
  • death of my best friend,
  • my mom’s cancer,
  • molestation again,
  • homosexuality, and
  • a civil union with my trans partner.

That was only the first part and it was filled with numerous items that would be enough to break anyone.

 

 

 

 

As I moved on to the second quadrant, what had started as a dream come true with a Cinderella wedding, soon brought with it much pain including:

  • infertility,
  • repeated loss,
  • grief,
  • medical treatments,
  • loss of hopes and dreams, and finally
  • adoption of two beautiful boys just nine months apart.

While the joy of motherhood was finally experienced, some questions and comments regarding my biracial children brought with them the sting of pain.

 

My broken heart on paper was filling up, yet I felt like I was just getting started. The third quadrant was a tough one and at the time, I was still wrestling with some of the items. The tears did not cease as I began to make the list in this section:

  • a broken marriage,
  • verbal, mental, and emotional abuse,
  • adultery,
  • betrayal,
  • frequent police activity coupled with false reports, and
  • a three year divorce with multiple court appearances and custody battles.

 

The last portion consisted of mental health issues that had arisen due to earlier abuse within the home. To see my kids suffer from the abuse and working to deal with the PTSD of the trauma was very difficult. It’s one thing to go through it myself, but to try to help carry that for my kids and help them recognize Jesus’s presence and involvement, even in the midst of the pain, was extremely challenging.

My broken heart was full of pain that held so much more impact than the limited words conveyed. I cried out to the Lord as I looked at my messy life. “God, I don’t know how You could ever fix this, but You are my only hope.” And with that, my focus shifted to God’s character and who I knew Him to be. I began praising the Lord for all He had done for me and the many ways I had seen his faithfulness over the years. As I spoke those words, I scribbled over the jagged, broken lines that depicted my brokenness. First up and down – covering the line completely. And then sideways, scribbling over the horizontal line until I could no longer see the broken lines.

When I turned the page around and looked again at my broken heart with all the messy parts of life, all I could now see was the scribbled lines which formed a cross. “Yes! Jesus, You are the only one who can fix this, the only one who can heal and mend my brokenness!” I wept again with thankfulness of His great love and care in my life. He saw it all. Nothing was hidden from his gaze. He heard my cries, understanding what all I was trying to say. I was fully known, warts and all, and He accepted me just as I was. And He loved me – broken, messy, crushed, and discouraged – with a deep, profound love that I could not understand. His love was unconditional and I didn’t have to do anything to earn it.