when a heart breaks

It's been a long, fuzzy, lazy day.

this was me, all day long

 One of those days I would probably use a do-over card if God dealt those. The boys were out of it, I was out of it. So we drowned out the heat and gave in to our exhaustion by watching volleyball and rowing and water polo and kayaking and I let them have nachos for lunch. Because watching people burn calories burns calories, right?

I'm proud of myself that I didn't eat the whole bowl of Jello when I got home today. I'm proud (and completely dumbfounded) that I made it through today without caffeine. I'm proud of myself for thinking about the fact that I need to think about packing to go back to school. It's like that, sometimes when you're desperate for some dignity. We cling to the smallest successes.

Despite my body's refusal to do anything today, my heart was in a different place. Recently, people have been getting into my heart and completely breaking it. And I'm not talking about romance. I'm talking about the ones who don't know Him. I see the hundreds of sample cups used by those who come through Red Mango and have never tasted of His goodness. I see Olympians striving for gold that will not last. I see my boys, silly and goofy and unaware of how much He loves them (despite my feeble attempts at displaying it to them). Friends who treasure the last chick's number they scored and do not realize the riches of wealth it is to know our Savior. Unreached people across the globe who don't even know they can know the Creator. My heart is groaning for them. It is broken and in a constant, desperate kneel.

And this is new for me.

Because a couple months ago, my heart did break. In that way. In every messy, chaotic, unexplained, illogical, hopeless, crushing way that a heart can break, mine broke. In the way I begged Him not to break it, He broke it. He ruined me, and I had nothing but puffy eyes and a blotchy chest and a Reese's McFlurry to show for it then. 

And I thought that was it.

Maybe it was my sweet cousin's excitement--not concern-- as I flooded the jumbled emotions and confusion and fear and heap of questions on him over coffee not soon after. Maybe it was the way God showered me with grace throughout the whole experience (I wrote out a list two pages long of mercies He provided) or how my fleeing, furious feet could not outrun His outstretched arm. And it was at coffee with my cousin, that I realized something was going to happen to this broken heart. And it was going to be so much more than restoration or healing. I realized He was going to move mountains that were hindering my soul-- the figurative ones are hardest to move. 

And the wonderful, majestic God I serve came through, much sooner and much richer than I could have ever planned or hoped for. He showed me who He was, the astounding, merciful, perfect Savior that came and did this life so we don't have to. He steadied my gaze on Him, loosened my grip on all else, and has never ceased to astound me. He has begun to direct my heart on its own, to cultivate fruit that I could have never imagined growing out of the unfertile soil of my soul. He freed me of my feelings, those torturous things that own so many of us, and He showed me how to be in control of them. 

He accomplished all those things, except He never mended my broken heart. 

No, He keeps it broken every day. He has kept it broken and vulnerable, but not to disappointments or pain or boys. He keeps crushing it for those Olympians. The Red Mango customers. My boys. I cannot stand it. 

And I think that's what broken hearts are there for. So often we fear those things that could come and break our hearts. We worry and beg God, "Anything but that!" And I'm sure He smiles. Do we think He cannot handle it? Do we think He will not make beautiful things out of ruin and catastrophe? Do we doubt His power to overcome the evil, the pain, the suffering, and make it stunningly and markably glorious? Do we understand we can tap into His power to overcome our feelings of hopelessness and doubt and live in victory and faith that He is moving? 

Because He is always, always moving.

He is always faithful. 

And I can guarantee you now, that we will look back on those worsts that we say we could never handle, and gratefully, soberly, and wonderfully say those broken hearts were the absolute best.

And of course we cannot handle them. That is the point.