My life is broken. Was broken. Has been broken. There are fractures and fragments of the journey that I have taken in this life strewn all over. Pieces of my heart and soul lay shattered along the reflections to the past. Life has been hard. And the scars that I have are deep and infected even at times, some not yet healed. But as I move forward in my faith and in my walk with Father God, the healing that is taking place can be looked at with wonder.
This past week, another step of healing happened. The relationship that we have shared with Brian’s family has been tumultuous as best. It has been a journey of blame and heartache, shame and finger-pointing, anger and even questionable activity. I have often been left reeling from visits with them. I have attempted to involve them minimally and in a safe fashion to allow them to keep the connection to their grandchildren, but to also protect my heart and my children. So for a long time they got to attend dance recitals and that was it. A public location with family and friends where they could see the girls, give quick hugs at the end, and we could go on our merry way. We would meet in a public location for Christmas gift exchange. It was awkward and weird and always left my stomach in knots and my soul aching that this was how life had to be. Rather than all coming together for Christmas traditions with my husband and his loving family, we had been reduced to just trying to survive interactions underneath the strain of a suicide and some nasty fallout.
Until this year. I have worked a lot on me and the journey that God wants me to take. This year when my mother-in-law texted back in November to pick a date to meet for our Christmas, I talked to the girls. We decided it was time to forgive and move forward. So, we planned a Christmas luncheon...in our home...and invited them to join us.
Immediately, Satan went to work trying to derail this plan. My heart began to be unsettled. Things I hadn’t remembered about them were flooding into my memory. I received a card from a relative with what seemed to me like a warning. I began full on grieving the loss of my husband all over again. The steering pain in my heart like a festering wound that had the bandaid ripped off. Nightmares at night. Tears when I couldn’t sleep. The firm footing in my faith was slipping. I was questioning my decision to make this happen. I cried and lamented and prayed and asked Jesus to intervene.
Then the day came. My house was cleaned and decorated for Christmas. My beautiful tree flowed and sparkled in the corner. The food was cooking and waiting for their arrival. They came. The anxiety melted away as we hugged and talked and ate and exchanged gifts. This visit was as normal as things have been for a long time. There was only love and peace and forgiveness. Some sadness at what things had occurred, and what things had become. Life was different. Brian is dead. His brother divorced. His niece and nephew young parents. And my mother-in-law’s poignant statement: This isn’t the life that we had planned at all, but we are making the best out of it.
Yes! This! My life plan didn’t include my husband killing himself. It didn’t have room for an assault. It didn’t include losing my grandparents and my husband and Tom and Clay and so many others that I just thought would be around forever. It didn’t include the broken road that winds through my memory. But, the broken road that weaves its way through the tapestry of my life is my broken road. Blessed by God. He gifted me with so many amazing moments, so many wonderful people, so many memories that carry me through the times where all I can do is trip and stumble on the broken pieces.
God blessed my broken road. Even in the moments that are horrible and terrible and bring me to my knees He was there. He was in every one of those moments, ready to carry me when I surrendered to Him and allowed Him to walk me down my broken road.
Proverbs 3:6 in the Bible says, “submit to Him in all your ways and He will make your paths straight.” He takes the broken roads that we find ourselves on often and lends them. Replaces the bricks, recements the cracks, paves the bumpy ways. He blesses our broken roads and makes our paths straights. He always makes a way to take any situation and make good out of it. It may not feel good at the time, but keep walking. Keep grieving. Keep forgiving. Keep moving forward one step at a time. He’s there, waiting for you to trust in Him. Waiting for you to call out for help. And He blesses your broken roads. He makes your paths straight. He helps you find the message in your mess.
My message in my mess. None of us planned this journey we’re on. But we all need to trust, have faith, know that God is using it for our good. He is blessing our broken road. And we will continue to move forward and heal. Our days will be filled with peace and faith and hope and love. We will grow stronger everyday as we walk in His truth and His grace!
Thank you, Father God, for blessing my broken road. I’m thankful for every loose brick, every crack, every pothole. Because they have made me into the faithful person I am today. They brought me friends and family I never knew I needed. They gifted me a prayer partner to walk me through these messages. They granted me strength, in myself and in my children.
God blessed my broken road. And He’s blessing yours too! Just look for Him and listen for Him! He’s there! Making your paths straight!
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