I found it going through that tub of old pictures and letters that more often than not goes forgotten in the darkness under our bed. Only God knows how long ago he had written that note for me. And only God knew how much I needed to read it again…
This past year has been a most heart-wrenching adventure. Parts have been extremely hard. Others have brought me joy such as I had never felt before. Through it all, He has allowed my heart to be slowly torn into pieces.
I’ve asked the question more times than I can count. Through gritted teeth and balled-up fists, through limp limbs swimming in a sea of salty tears, and even through that gentle peace He’s placed in my heart, the peace that can only be described by the sleeping face of a babe.
Why? I don’t understand…
Isn’t that the beauty of it though, His ways not being our ways?
I’m not sure when it began, this breaking open of my heart. I do know that it had started by the time we were filling out the paperwork and joining those group classes so that we could become an official Saskatchewan Foster Family.
Fostering those two littles would break my heart in ways that I wouldn’t understand at the time. Heck, I still don’t fully understand it. All I know is that it brought back memories. Memories that I thought I had locked up for good. Memories that I had almost succeeded in putting out of my mind. Those two littles reminded me of myself. They were too little to have to endure such hardship.
That was only the beginning, though, of the breaking of my hardened heart. It continued on day after day, month after month. Even now I don’t think the process is done, if it ever will be during this lifetime.
I fell into a depression. I isolated myself. From others. From God. Though little did I know that He was with me that whole time, patiently waiting, gently soothing.
Isn’t that what happens when we try to run from the realities that life brings our way? We spiral down, spiral in, and lose focus of what really matters.
I had tried so hard to pull out those weeds that had long ago sprouted in my heart. I pulled this way and that way with all of my might, with all that I had. But the roots had grown so deep.. Too deep.
That wasn’t necessarily the problem though. It isn’t the problem. The problem was that I was trying to do it on my own, with my own strength. I had shoved Him aside, out of shame, out of bitterness, not knowing that it was He who I needed most, whom I need most even now.
Thank goodness for His grace.
Again and again He gently takes my face into His every loving hands and reorientates me towards Himself, towards His heart. He reminds me, again and again, that yes it hurts, but it is in the breaking that He can shine the brightest. It is in the breaking that I am being made whole.
I found the note in the midst of the hundreds of other old letters. It wasn’t anything spectacular to look at, written in a messy hand on a simple scrap of paper. But those words were like a gentle breath of fresh air, a gracious reminder that His ways are not our ways, that He can be trusted to make all things new and whole and beautiful in His perfect timing.
Like a tulip in the spring, the most beautiful flower emerges from the snowy, cracked, and windswept ground, only to become an amazing representation of what beauty trials can bring. – Damien Kurek