The Greatest Fear

My greatest fear in life is to look into the mirror and see myself.  Not the image of myself that I try to present to others, but me... the real, naked self that I've hidden away.

The weak and cowardly little girl who wants only to be loved and held.  She sleeps each night with her puffy cat and hides beneath the covers.  The shadows scare her and she avoids the dark places.

The ugly girl who is cruel and mean.  She mocks and discourages and insults.  And when the cowardly girl tries to keep her head up, she abuses.  She cuts.  She hurts.  She steals joy.

The girl who settles because she doesn't feel worthy of goodness.  She allows the ugly girl to hurt her.  She lets the boy tear her apart inside, because that's what she deserves.  He tramples her underfoot.  She has lost her voice and power.

Today, I choose to face them.  I will see my true reflection.  This time, I will go into the mirror and fight the cowardly girl, the mean girl and the unworthy girl.  I will not be afraid anymore.

The Room Inside

     I have a room filled with all the pain from my past and present.  The scars inside are deep, the hurt overbearing.

     Sometimes I have to retrieve something from that room and I'm afraid to open the door, so I slam it shut hard when I am finished.

     I have discovered a way to dump more pain into the room without having to face the terrors inside me.  The room has become so full of aching that it cannot contain itself and it bursts through to scars outside.

     One day, I will clean the room.  I will open the door and face the demons who live inside.  I am afraid that I won't be strong enough and the demons will overtake me.

     So, for now, I sit against the door, using all my might to keep it shut.

I hope only to survive.

The Struggle in the Suffering

I am angry.  Broken and angry.

I've had more blows dealt to me than any normal person could reasonably bear.  And I am angry at God.

I even questioned His existence for a while.  How could God let someone go through this heartache and betrayal again and again.  I have tried so very hard to make sense of it all and it's just impossible.  There is NO sense in this.

People keep referring me to the story of Job.  They remind me that Job lost nearly everything.  Well, I have lost nearly everything too... more than once.  Every time I find myself healed and whole again, my entire foundation is shaken.  I finally recovered from my first miscarriage at 12 weeks and I had a second miscarriage at 16 weeks.  I finally rebuilt myself mind, body, spirit after heartache, only to experience more heartache. Heartache piled upon heartache.

I have lost things over and over again.  When Job nearly lost everything, God spoke to him clearly and then blessed him with more than he'd ever had.  So please... give me the story of Job.  It would be an improvement.  Not only am I continually torn apart, but God is silent.

Last night, we had several moments of crisis in our home.  My daughter wanted a snack and I told her no (she didn't eat dinner).  She lost it.  She started screaming and yelling about all the things she hates.  "I hate Grandma's room, I hate books, I hate..."  There is something about my daughter that I need to explain to you right now.  She has always been a Mommy's Girl.  Her dad and I divorced when she was just a baby and she can be very clingy.  When she gets angry with me, she usually asks me to hold her.  Even when she's mad at me, I'm her source of comfort.

So, last night, she said with broken words, through painful tears that she wanted someone to hold her.  I reached for her and she screamed at me.  I picked her up anyway and held her close in a tight hug.  She struggled and stretched and kicked and hit and screamed and tried to get out with all her might.  She told me she didn't love me anymore.  It broke my heart.  Here, I was usually the one she'd run to for comfort and at this moment, comfort was something I longed to give her.  As I continued holding her tightly against my chest, God spoke.

Child, is this not how you are treating me?

And I knew.  These people who have hurt me sinned against me, but they also sinned against God. God is hurting for me. He longs to be my comfort; to hold me through this.  But I have fought Him.  I have struggled.  I have screamed.  And yet, He continues to hold me close.  He can be my comfort.  He longs to give me peace.  He will give me treasures from dark places (Isaiah 45:3).  His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:23).

So, I have a decision to make.  Will I struggle or surrender?  I can seek comfort in my Savior.  I will lean on Him.

"And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you."  1 Peter 5:10

Sharing the Sorrow

I've experienced my share of heartache and loss.  But none of that quite compares to seeing a friend hurting and broken.  That's what I've experienced this week.
A few years ago, I reconnected with a girl I used to know.  She's really developed into the kind of girl everyone would want as a friend.  She's wise, encouraging and faithful.  I was so grateful to have her in my life.
She was starting a new "girlfriend group" to support those of us who have experienced issues with infertility.  At the time, I was really struggling with my secondary infertility... with suddenly being barren.  My heart was torn apart and this amazing group of women helped me to slowly put the pieces back together.  My wonderful husband and I had been discussing the possibility of surrogacy and this broken bundle of hopeful moms were able to understand my pain unlike anyone else I knew. They understood it because they were there too.
We would meet at Panera and discuss all sorts of things related to our infertility.  We could share things openly and honestly, without fear of looking bad.  We could talk about how bitter we were when other people we knew were having babies so easily.  We could open up about the well-meaning but rude comments we'd heard from others and weep without fear of anyone telling us we were overreacting.  These women understood each other.
My friend had such a heart for women struggling with infertility.  Although she was pushing through a barren life herself, she was always a strong shoulder to cry on and a stable source of uplifting and encouraging words.  As many months went by, our group tried a variety of medical interventions.  Eventually, there were announcements of babies expected.  There was a true sense of celebration, though there was also an internal sense of sorrow.
My friend continued to be supportive and joyful as, one by one, people in the group announced their pregnancies.
It's such an exciting thing to see someone's sorrow lifted and replaced with joy.  My friend earnestly celebrated with everyone on their good news, but I know it had to be tearing her up inside.  Why were these women getting pregnant and not her?
But it's bigger than that.  Harder, even.
This week, a man in Washington was arraigned for putting his six week old daughter in a freezer for an hour because she was crying.  He put his DAUGHTER in a FREEZER.
A pastor in South Korea created a drop box for unwanted babies because hundreds of babies are abandoned on the side of the road in South Korea each year.
The abortion rate in the US dwarfs the adoption rate and there are many adoptive parents wanting each baby available.  One website said there are 36 adoptive parents for every one baby available.
My friend has found herself on the seemingly impossible side of this statistic.  Earlier this week, the baby she'd fallen in love with was placed elsewhere.  She and her husband are broken and discouraged.
How do you help a friend get through such a helpless time?  How do you explain why God allows such heartless and uncaring people to be parents when there are so many amazing and wonderful "parents" without children?  Why does this happen?
The truth of the matter is that we can't explain that.
And we aren't required to.
Not everything that happens in life is part of God's perfect plan.  But God is faithful, even in the imperfections.  It's not for us to know WHY things happen.  We just need to trust in WHO He is.  He takes situations in our lives that are impossibly wrong and brings good out of them.
He continues to be faithful to my friend.  He is working behind the scenes in ways that we simply cannot understand.  He is "able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think" (Eph 3:20) and I know He will show Himself faithful to my friend.
So I do what I can.  I pray.
Each night, my children and I pray that God will make her a mother and will encourage her daily.
I know that one day, God will fill that void in her life.  Because He is loving.  He is faithful.  He is wise.  And I trust in that, because that's WHO He is.

The Rebreaking

When Colin was about nine months old, we found out that we were expecting again.  After the initial shock wore off, I was thrilled.  No, I take that back... I was thrilled from the very moment I suspected something might be off.  Although we weren't planning to have another baby so soon, I was very excited at the idea of having two little Colins running around the house.

When I was younger, I wanted several children.  Eleven to be exact.  I was going to have four girls and seven boys.  The girls were to be named Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter and I'd name the boys Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Bob.  Yes, I had it all planned out.
Then, I saw the news of the Dilley Sextuplets.  I was so excited about that possibility that I determined I'd be the first woman to have seven babies at once.  If you asked me what I wanted to be, I'd tell you I wanted to be an astronaut.  Clearly, I was a bit delusional as a child.

But, as I grew, my hopes for the future matured.  I wanted 5-8 children and had dreams of our family playing outside and the older children helping with the younger children.  If you asked me what I wanted to be, I'd say I wanted to be a mom.  That was my new dream.

Eventually, my dream grew to include teaching.  So, here I was, as a teacher, expecting my second child.  The best part of it was that all four of my closest friends were pregnant at the same time.  Two of them had just found out, so we'd go through pregnancy together.  The other two were farther along and were getting to their baby shower stage.  It was amazingly exciting.

We went to the doctor to hear the heartbeat of our baby and were so excited as the nurse pulled out the doppler.  I rested on the table at 6 weeks pregnant and was anxious to hear the little horse-galloping sound of the baby's heart.  The doctor warned me that it was still early and sometimes you just couldn't hear the heartbeat at this stage, but I knew we'd hear it.  Sure enough, as soon as they put the doppler to my abdomen, we could hear the amazing sound of a living being inside me.  I was thrilled.  The baby was progressing well and I was on my way to baby number two.

I remember telling my mom.  I'd put together a photo album of Colin for them.  On the last page, there was a picture of me holding Colin, with the caption "I have a secret!"  On Colin's shirt, it read, "Big Brother".  My parents were thrilled.

At 10 weeks, I went back in for my next appointment.  I was an old pro by this time and knew exactly what to expect.  They grabbed the doppler and we all listened.  Nothing.  My OB moved it around and we still heard nothing.  He gave it to his nurse and she tried.  No heartbeat.  He sent me over to the ultrasound room, but I knew what was going to happen.  Alone in the ultrasound room, I found out that my baby was not going to make it.  I was advised to go home and miscarry naturally.  Two and a half weeks later, I still hadn't miscarried, so they scheduled me for a D&E.  Seeing those letters in writing doesn't seem like a big deal, but this is the same process as abortion.  They literally rip the baby out in pieces.  It was a very emotional experience and I got no closure.  Up to this point in my life, this was the most traumatic experience that had ever happened to me.  My heart was broken.

They say that once you've lost a baby, all your future pregnancies are ruined because you've lost the innocence and wonder.  This certainly happened with me.  My first pregnancy had finally and officially ended just before the end of the first trimester, so when I got pregnant again, the first trimester was a very scary time.  I was monitored a little more closely, but things were going pretty smoothly.  I actually reached the second trimester at the same time my miscarried baby would have been born.  But I was finally in the second trimester and things were going great.  I had a very pronounced baby bump and was enjoying my trips to Babies R Us.  I was scouring the internet for baby names and looking at magazines for nursery ideas.  I was going to be a mom of two!  This time, I rented a doppler to keep at home and listened to the baby's heartbeat whenever I got nervous.  It was so reassuring to know that things were going smoothly.

I remember one Sunday morning just before 16 weeks.  I was sitting in church and felt the baby kick for the first time.  There was no mistaking it.  It was no flutter.  It was a good solid kick in my gut.  It made me jump!  This was the stage I'd been waiting for.  Feeling the baby would be so much more reassuring!  That afternoon, my ex was leaving for training, so I grabbed the doppler so he could hear the heartbeat one more time.  I couldn't find it.  My ex brushed it off as no big deal, but I knew something was wrong.  That night, after he left, I tried again.  Nothing.  I tried a few times a day until Tuesday morning, when I made an appointment for that afternoon.  Again, I was by myself when the OB told me that the baby had no heartbeat.  I'd lost another one.

They admitted me into Labor and Delivery to deliver the baby.  They put me on some induction medication and tried to encourage labor.  That night, my water broke, but there were no signs of labor.    They tried some heavier drugs to get the process going.  I was going to be able to hold the tiny baby and name it.  They even said they'd get me footprints.  I was going to get the closure that I didn't get the first time.  But after a day of heavy meds, there were still no signs of labor.  My OB said it was time for another D&E.  I burst into tears.  I couldn't go through that again.  I begged and pleaded with him to please try anything else.  He was concerned about infection, but tried everything else he could.  The next morning, there was no progress and they wheeled me away for another D&E.

I went into a very dark place emotionally.  I was angry at God, no question, but I still understood that He could bring good out of my situation.  That didn't make me feel any better, though, and I was sinking fast.  My OB had suggested that I go on some antidepressants for a short time if I needed them.  I started really considering that option.  I confided in a Christian friend who insisted that if I went on antidepressants, I wasn't trusting God enough.  That comment killed me inside.  I knew I needed help.  I'd been closer to God than ever before, but I just needed a little more.  I was teaching at a Christian school at the time and I made an appointment with the Campus Pastor.  He told me that God has gifted everyone differently.  For some, that gift is the ability to create medications.  He asked me if people would have issues if I took medication for an illness.  Obviously, not.  He encouraged me so much that day.  I was grateful for a Christian who chose to build up instead of tear down.

I began seeing a high risk OB, who ran several tests.  There was nothing in the tests or the pathology report from the baby that gave any clues as to why this was happening.  They assured me it was just bad luck and gave us permission to try again.

Our next pregnancy was a long series of confusing appointments.  My numbers were rising well, but the doctor couldn't find a baby in the uterus.  Around 9 weeks, he decided it was probably hiding behind some cysts on my ovary, but recommended another D&E just in case there was something in my uterus that could cause infection.  So, off I went for my third heartless D&E.  At this point, two Christians I worked with began blaming me for my miscarriages.  Again, my support system was tearing me down instead of uplifting me.  Why do we do this to each other?
My next pregnancy was my shortest.  I miscarried naturally just before 5 weeks.  I was barely pregnant.

At this point, my emotions were all over the place.  I knew I could get pregnant, but why wasn't I staying pregnant?  I just didn't understand it.  If I'd just been diagnosed with something, I could be treated with something.  But with no diagnosis, all the doctors could offer was, "Just keep trying."  Oh, and the worst part?  On my charts, I was labeled a "habitual aborter".

I began seeing a Reproductive Endocrinologist and we tried everything from Clomid to injections.  Now, I couldn't even GET pregnant.  It was as if my uterus had waged war against my emotions.
My sixth pregnancy came as I was completely giving up.  My ex husband's very first reaction when I told him was, "I wonder how long THIS one is going to last."

I went in for bloodwork and found out that my estradiol was low, so I was put on supplements.  The supplements made my progesterone drop, so then I was put on supplements for that as well.  Eventually, my numbers balanced out and started looking good.  My OB was concerned about my pregnancy due to the trauma to my uterus from the three prior D&Es.  I had ultrasounds every other week to make sure things were okay.  I had placenta previa, but that usually corrected itself, so I wasn't too worried about that.

But it didn't correct itself.  I was put on modified bed rest and wasn't allowed to lift anything over 10 pounds.  I was having regular contractions and had been hospitalized twice and was put on medication to keep the contractions from causing any trouble.  It was very risky for me to go into labor, so they'd planned a c-section at 38 weeks.

At 36 weeks, I'd gone in to check on Colin sleeping.  I thought my water broke, but quickly realized I was bleeding, so we rushed to Labor and Delivery.  They decided it was a great risk and prepped me for an emergency c-section.  Harper was born and sent to be cleaned up and checked, where she was put on oxygen because she wasn't breathing well on her own.  Meanwhile, in the OR, my uterus wasn't contracting and I was losing a lot of blood.  My OB told me that he'd have to take my uterus out or I'd die from blood loss.  They'd already given me a transfusion.

When I woke up (I'd passed out during the hysterectomy), I asked for my daughter.  The nurse said she'd check and left the room.  I didn't realize she'd been on oxygen.  The pediatric nurses were concerned that she wasn't getting better and were about to send her to another hospital with a NICU when she finally started breathing better on her own.  All of this happened just as I was waking up.  My nurse came back into my room and told me they were preparing to bring my daughter and it would just be a moment.  I remember when I first held her.  She was truly a miracle.

They say it's easier to remove a bandaid if you just rip it off in one swift motion.  I think it's the same with the heart.  The heart recovers better if you have the pain in one big attack.  It's the constant rebreaking that does the most damage.  Mine had definitely been broken many times over.  But the rebreaking wasn't nearly finished.

Not long after my daughter was born, I found out about my ex husband and the things he'd been doing to hurt me over the years.  What followed was months of discoveries and rebreaking.

My heart has been hurt over and over again in ways I'd never wish on my worst enemy.

But it doesn't matter how badly your heart is hurt or how many times it is broken.  God is the healer.
I will never carry another baby inside, but God can fill that void.  My wonderful husband will never have a child that carries his genes, but he has two step-children who love him and whom he treats as his own.  We may never have a large family or we may give a home to children longing for parents.
Who knows what God has planned for us, but I will stand firm on Romans 8:28.  God works together ALL things for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.
God WILL bring good out of all of this breaking.  Some days that's easier for me to believe than others.  But I have to cling to His word.

And sometimes, that really means CLING!  As Psalm 119:31 says, I cling to your decrees, Lord.  Do not put me to shame.

And so I trust God and His word.  Even when trusting is hard.  Because trusting is all I have left.

What Is Your Center?

"Darkness.  That's the first thing I remember.  It was dark, it was cold and I was scared.  But then... then I saw the Moon.  It was so big and it was so bright.  It seemed to chase the darkness away.  And when it did, I wasn't scared anymore.  Why I was there and what I was meant to do, that I've never known... and a part of me wonders if I ever will."

Rise of the Guardians may be a movie full of childish holiday imagery, but I absolutely love it.  The movie centers around Jack Frost, who knows that he hasn't always been an ice-maker with a freezing cold core.  He longs to find out why he is who he is and why the Man in the Moon called him to be a Guardian.

As I watched this movie with my kids, there were so many things that stuck out to me... so much I identified with.  Jack begged for answers from the Man in the Moon.  "You're the one who put me here!  The least you can do is tell me... tell me why!"  I can't even begin to write how many times I've asked God the same question.  What is it that He wants me to do?  I've tried serving in so many areas in church... I've tried encouraging those around me.  I've shared the gospel with people I meet.  But I still have this emptiness... this feeling that there's more I'm supposed to do.  What is it that God wants me to do with my life?  I've heard so many speakers talk about their journey to discovering God's will for them.  But the common theme is that waiting is hard.  Of course, God realizes this.  The Bible is full of stories of waiting.  The Israelites waited in the wilderness.  David waited for years to become king after he was chosen.  Esther waited for the right moment to approach the king.  In fact, it's interesting to note that the name of God is never mentioned in the book of Esther.  It appears that He was silent, but still He moved on their behalf.  Job waited for answers.  Jeremiah waited for the walls to be built.  Daniel waited in the lions' den.  Jonah waited in the fish's belly.  And that's just a few examples.  "They that wait upon the Lord will renew their strength." (Isaiah 40:31)
But how?  How will we continue to have strength while we wait?  I think we see the answer to that question by looking more closely at the verses leading up to verse 31.

Why do you complain, Jacob?  Why do you say, Israel, "My way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God"?  Do you not know?  Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary, and His understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary  and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Did you see it?  He will not grow tired or weary.  The Message puts it this way: "God lasts."  We won't lose our strength because HE doesn't lose His strength.  He'll give us the ability to wait until He decides it's time to reveal His will to us.

In the movie, Jack didn't just sit around and wait to discover his purpose.  He spends time with the rest of the Guardians and talks with them about his questions.  In a conversation with Nicholas St. North, it's discovers that his purpose is based on his center.  St. North asks him, "Who are you, Jack Frost?  What is your center?  If Man in Moon chose you, you must have something very special inside."  I think, too often, I disregard the fact that God chose me.  Long before He laid the earth's foundations, He had us in mind.  I am hand picked and hand made by God.  If He made and chose me, do I really believe He'd abandon me here?  Of course not.

Nicholas St. North hands Jack a nesting doll.  As Jack opens each figure, he sees another aspect of St. North.  At the center, he finds a wooden baby with large eyes.  St. North responds: "Yes!  Big eyes, VERY BIG, because they are full of wonder.  That is my center.  It is what I was born with, eyes that have only seen the wonder in everything!  Eyes that see lights in the trees and magic in the air.  This wonder is what I put into the world, and what I protect in children.  It is what makes me a guardian.  It is my center.  What is yours?"  God has made me different than every other person in this world.  He has given us all special and unique gifts that He wants us to use to fulfill our purpose.  But those gifts are not our center.  Our center is the gift-giver.  We're born longing to learn about Him, but not everyone chooses to know Him.  He is the only center that can give us the fulfillment we long for, but we often try to fill that void with other people or things.  I know I have even attempted to fill that void with church and ministry.  But it never completely fills the emptiness. I was born to carry out His will for my life.  And until He tells me what He wants me to do next, I should serve Him using the gifts, talents and interests that He has given me.

There are times when I feel that this is not enough.  Satan knows this and he uses it against me.  He loves to throw doubt in my path and make me feel that there's nothing I can do now.  In the movie, the enemy is Pitch Black.  At one point, Jack ends up in a conversation with him.  Jack insists that he's not afraid of Pitch and Pitch tells Jack that he IS afraid of something.  "It's the one thing I always know: people's greatest fears.  Yours is that no one will ever believe in you.  And worst of all, you're afraid you'll never know why.  Why you?  Why were you chosen?"  I believe that Satan's two greatest weapons, at least in my life, are doubt and delay.

"How can God really love you if He allowed this to happen?"   

"Do you really think that God has a plan for YOU?"

"You aren't ready to serve God now.  Maybe after you've learned more."

"Are you sure you have the talent to serve God?"

Some days, I listen to him.  I doubt God's goodness and the gifts He's given to me.  Other days, I sense the urgency.  We have very little time to do what God has placed us on this earth to do.  We don't have the liberty to doubt God's plan or presence.  He IS with us.  He DOES have a plan for us.  He HAS equipped us.  And while we may not know the specifics of how He wants us to fulfill our purpose, we do know one purpose: go and make disciples.  So, while I wait, I'll go.  I'll share the gospel.  I'll encourage my fellow Christians.  And I'll use my talents in ministry.  And who knows?  Maybe that has been God's plan for me all along.

Cracked Pots and Broken Vessels

I was once told that I'm incapable of love.  I laughed it off on the outside, but on the inside it really hurt.  My friends and I joked about it, but every time we joked, I worried.  What if it was true?  What if my ex had really stolen my ability to love again?  I knew I was hurt, but what if the hurt was permanent?  What if my heart had been permanently broken?

Most days, I do feel like a cracked pot.  My heart just doesn't work right.  I want to love completely and wholly again.  To love without fear or reservation.  But it's just so scary.  I think of my children, when they were small.  I'd be cooking and they would want to help.  When I would open the oven, they would be so curious, but I'd keep them back, warning that it was hot.  Sometimes, they'd try to come closer and feel the oven's warmth.  They'd get just a hint of what I'd tried to tell them and they'd back up.  I know that if they'd come closer, they'd have been burnt and would have clearly learned their lesson.  It would have only taken one time, but I wanted to protect them from even that.

Unfortunately, I was burned.  I loved deeply and vulnerably and was completely betrayed.  And I learned a lesson.  I learned that when you give your heart completely, you get hurt.  I know that's not the lesson God wants for me, but it's hard to unlearn.  Right now, my heart is in pieces inside my chest.

I met my husband in a most unique way.  My friend Megan had flown from Florida to California to help her friend, Leona, move.  Leona was in the Navy and knew someone with a truck, so he was there to help.  As Megan talked to him, she thought of me.  She asked me if she could give him my number.  Jeremiah texted me a day or two later and we texted for hours.  We had so much in common in terms of our hopes and dreams for the future.  Instead of hesitating because of my kids, he was excited about getting to know them.  We spent weeks talking on the phone and texting before he decided to come out and meet me.  I do believe I loved him quickly, but it's hard to love when your heart is in pieces.

He is the most Christ-like man I know and he is so loving toward me.  I love him as much as I can, but I can feel that I'm holding back.  We've talked about this and he is patient and understanding.  He knows how hurt I was and he insists that he'll keep loving me to show me what real love looks like.  This man is so amazingly caring that I'm often in awe of how much he loves me and I want to reciprocate.

God is slowly putting the pieces of my heart back together, but there are cracks.  There are gaps and holes that I'm not sure will ever be replaced or healed.  But I think that's the part that makes my heart so special.  You see, the gaps of my heart are being filled by God's heart.  And His heart loves so much more deeply than mine ever could.  I helped my mom once with a lesson idea she got from Angie Smith.  She took a clay pitcher and broke it into several pieces.  I remember sitting at our kitchen table with my mom and dad as we took the broken pieces and glued them back together.  In my mind, I kept thinking that it was going to look terrible.  There was no way this pitcher would ever be whole again.  It would be ugly and misshapen. It would never be normal.

I was right.  It was ugly.  Abnormal.  There were cracks and holes everywhere.  I could see the lesson... that once a heart was broken, it could never be completely mended.

But that wasn't the lesson.  After we'd glued the pieces back together, my mom put a light inside.  Not only did the light shine out from the top of the pitcher, but brilliant light came through every crack and hole.  The pitcher would never have lit up like it did if it hadn't been broken.

That's how I see my heart.  It's broken.  Cracked.  Ugly.  But God's love is shining through every crack and hole.  I'm learning to love because God loves.  I'm learning to let Him love through me.  And that's exactly the kind of love my husband needs from me.  Not my broken, heart-hurt love, but God's complete and unconditional love.

And that was God's design all along.  "Love one another as I have loved you."  His love does more than heal.  It shines through the broken places.  And finally, I see purpose in the pain.