I broke down today. (I know, not the most inspiring opening line, right?). A break down that was two weeks in the making. I am a weeper, with ugly, messy tears. I anticipated an emotional train wreck immediately to unfold the minute my feet crossed the threshold of my parent’s house arriving in America. Days past and no tears came. I almost began to worry of the absence of my outward expression of grief that my insides were forecasting.
Little did I know it was just a forecast predicted two weeks too early. And by this time I had began to forget or more so ignore the pains within me, like I thought I got off the hook. It’s funny and concerning all at the same time how quickly we can numb things and sink into “normal” day-to-day living.
Not today though, ignoring would prove to be impossible. It wedged itself into such a small, insignificant moment of my day that it startled me. Sitting down on the floor, between my bed and bookshelf, I decided to simplify my pre-Race bookshelf while enjoying a nice playlist, it hit me right there. Such a small moment, an emotionless task, or it was supposed to be I thought.
As I looked at all of these books a lyric made its way up the wire into the ear buds and ran into my ears,
“Older chests reveal themselves
Like a crack in a wall
Starting small, and grow in time
And we always seem to need the help
Of someone else
To mend that shelf
Too many books
Read me your favorite line”
And the pain in my heart began to make itself known despite me trying to shove it into a small corner within me. I looked at all my books and thought of all the people and stories I carried now in my heart and that no matter how many books could try to hold those stories they could never fully carry their reality. But just because a book with a binding can’t hold them doesn’t mean my heart cannot. It doesn’t mean they aren’t worth still feeling and experiencing like your favorite book. Just because time and space changes and creates distance physically from those specific moments that kept appearing one after the other, like raindrops full of memories that were falling from the sky in a down pour, doesn’t mean they can’t still be enjoyed and relished. But how when it hurts so badly right now to feel the distance and the physical absence of them?
“And we always seem to need someone to help us mend that shelf”
He so gently tells me that I have to let Him mend the brokenness. That if it goes on and on it will be, “Like a crack in a wall, starting small, and grow in time.” If the crack can be mended then there begins to make a way to not fear opening up those memories and places. The process of mending is guaranteed to be painful. When something is broken and needs fixing, it takes prying here and there and snipping away at places. But it’s also a guarantee that after the mending there comes a healing, a wholeness.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” Psalms 34:18
There is brokenness in all of us, most all days. And there is a wholeness that is always found in His mending love for each of those days.
It’s the most challenging vulnerability to let someone into your brokenness and trust their methods of mending. It’s a good thing that that mending isn’t not dependent on my abilities but all that is needed is my surrender.
