Broken Beyond Bones

A broken elbow – my husband has surgery tomorrow, Monday – for a broken elbow. He fell off our 12-year-old’s rip-stick. Broken since last Sunday, it’s been a bittersweet week – pain and sweetness – and everything inbetween.

The 21-year-old said, “What was he doing on a rip-stick? He’s over 50.”

Sitting across from him eating some Mexican, an hour away from home, after seeing the surgeon who will do the surgrey, I thought – I love that spirit in him, the joy of life, not letting anything define him but who he is – but God– even if it means being over 50 and on a rip-stick.  I think Christopher Columbus must have had the boyish-spirit of adventure mixed with an engineer’s heart.

And the potter’s fingers, slightly wet with Holy spirit water, healed the frissures in his design, until only things of Him remained.

A broken collar-bone – my son broke his collar bone on his 15^th birthday in June this year. Rough-housing with friends – who were tossing each other – he was winning until his friend tossed him and he landed on his collar bone, breaking it.

“Looks like you lost,” said his younger brother, asking. “Who’s the smartest now?

Our son chaffened under the restrictions, the pain until the brokenness was made hole.

And the potter’s fingers, slightly wet with Holy spirit water, healed the frissures in his design, until only things of Him remained.

Sometimes – it’s not the bones that break you. Sometimes there’s more than bones broken –

Teens  broken, feeling like 1000s of particles of their whole scattered – and they don’t know quite how or why they are broken, broken and running

And the potter’s fingers, slightly wet with Holy spirit water, healed the frissures in his design, until only things of Him remained.

Mother’s and Father’s experiencing a great loss – maybe a long loss from leukemia or loss in a split second – their heart which birthed a life and grew love like ivy vines – suddenly those vines like arms have one less to reach for – and the roots and vines suffer shock, broken

And the potter’s fingers, slightly wet with Holy spirit water, healed the frissures in his design, until only things of Him remained.

Life in the daily, though – seemingly safe – sometimes I crash against the daily – chip and crack – the mother part, the wife part, the employee part – the original design He created out of me –

shattered
fragmented
shivered
broken

And in myself I cannot pull myself together – all the pieces strewn across the daily.

I cannot. . . .But He can

I go to the Potter’s Door, knock. Before I have finished rapping on the door – He flings it open, welcoming, comforting.

He doesn’t need remembering. He doesn’t need to look through dusty files. He knows me as intimately as He did the day He created me.

“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them” (Psalm 139: 13-16)

Though He sees my brokenness, He doesn’t rail at what I’ve done or what’s happened. Instead, He sees the design He planned, He loved and He keeps up with in the daily. No sighing exasperation. No lectures. Just a Father loving His child like a potter and his clay.

He makes me whole, if I allow Him to center me on the Potter’s Wheel – and allow Him to shape me, to work the imperfections out of me

And He dips His holy hands into the holy spirit water – not much – because this Holy Spirit water whether a drop and an immersion – has the power to heal, to make whole.

He dips His holy Hands into the holy spirit water works this design of me until only things of Him remain

And I am re-made whole.

“Arise, and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.” (Isaiah 18: 2-4)

I have learned, through practicing Ann’s counting gifts – the importance of opening the blessings He gifts me with daily. They are part of the potter’s work shaping me whole, this learning to find the gifts in the midst of brokenness.

1066. Recognizing, not berating, an adventurous, courageous spirit who doesn’t let challenges, like rip-sticks and broken bones, set boundaries.
1067. The boys, not complaining, helping with the daily
1068. Finding quality time with my husband in the dr’s offices, imaging centers, hospital – and pre-op.
1069. Sick days for broken bones
1070. Time in the waiting and the driving to talk about the last 30 years –
1071. and feel like it was all just yesterday
1072. that love hasn’t diminished but grown richer
1073. imperfections in individuals and relationships don’t detract from our love, our commitment or our marriage
1074. laughter, like good manners, is like a healing balm to sore moments
1075. that inviting God into it all makes a world of difference
1076. faith that after surgery, there will be limited scar tissue so there will be 100% mobility
1077. butterflies really do flock to butterfly bushes and zinnias
1078. sometimes my boys choose awesome friends with awesome moms
1079. Despite a broken elbow  – God has equipped us with more than enough to launch big changes in the next few weeks.
1080. The sun is shining in a blue-bird sky today in 75 degree weather – a moment of refreshing before a complicated Monday.
1081. Prayers – from friends for my husband’s surgery tomorrow
1082. Update on Surgery – it went great – and God showed me even broken elbows have silver linings🙂

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