UPDATE: CINDY SLEDGE IS THE WINNER OF THIS DRAWING! CINDY, I'LL MESSAGE YOU. :)
I rarely take baths anymore. They’re too time consuming. Also,
I always make the water too hot and can never stay in long enough to make the
effort worthwhile. An added deterrent is that our master bathroom does not have
a locking door, and I’m always nervous that an unsuspecting kid will walk in on
me.
But recently, I took a bath.
Lovely, right? Clean tub, comfy pillow, pumpkin-spice scented
candle and a hand towel at the ready. The water is the perfect temperature, the
bubbles divine, my phone off, and I’ve got two books to choose from because I
couldn’t decide which one to bring with me.
I took the perfect picture, and then I enhanced it with
filters. Finally, I cropped it and adjusted the lighting so that it would be
post-worthy. Are you rolling your eyes? Because I am.
Here’s what you don’t see in this picture:
Nice view, huh? This hole has been in our wall for
approximately seven years, just waiting for me to cut two squares of drywall
like my dad taught me to do, pop them into place, seal them in, and repaint.
Such a simple job, and cheap. That’s why we haven’t called someone to take care
of it. It’s an eyesore, but it’s in our master bathroom. No one sees it. Except
for me, every day – and it stares directly at me on the rare occasion that I
take a bath.
Want to see what else I cut out of the picture?
That’s a crack in the window next to the bathtub. It’s been
there since we bought the house in 2011. We didn’t notice it until after we
moved in, and we never fixed it.
This towel rack is killing me. I gave up on fixing it a
couple years ago, and now we just sling our towels over the glass door of the
shower. This is such a simple project. I could easily fill those holes and
touch up the paint and reinstall a new fixture. I could also easily call a plumber
to fix the two bathroom sinks (not pictured) that have been leaking for years. Instead,
we’ve just been living with the problems and trying to ignore them.
I waffled about whether I should post the photos of the
broken things in our master bathroom. It’s kind of embarrassing. Why haven’t we
taken care of the mess? There just always seems to be something more pressing to
deal with – and more visible.
My husband and I have an inordinate amount of experience
with broken things. I could probably write a book on the topic, come to think
of it. ;) One almost unbelievable example happened the weekend our daughter
finished her cancer treatment.
After she rang the end-of-treatment bell at MD Anderson
Cancer Center, we celebrated with friends and then went to dinner. On the way
home a little after 10 p.m., our eight-year-old van died.
(That’s a grainy pic of the kids waiting on our ride. One child
is to the left, doing pushups. Not sure why…)
Turns out, the transmission had given out. If you know
anything about cars, you know a transmission is not a cheap fix.
The next day, since our van was dead, I was driving our old
2002 Chevy Impala on an errand, and it started overheating.
We’d been having nonstop trouble with both cars for a couple
of years, but we couldn’t imagine chucking both of them and buying two new
cars. One income, four kids, and a very big medical bill were standing in the
way of dealing properly with the problem. But with two dead cars, we needed
transportation. So we gave the Chevy away… (I was sad, as it had been the first
car I had ever purchased):
…and we put the money into repairing the Dodge Grand Caravan. Then, we bought this baby:
It was not convenient when our two cars broke down. It was
not cheap to replace the transmission in our van. It was sad to get rid of the
Impala. It hurt our monthly budget when we had to buy a new vehicle. But can you see the relief on my face?
Plus, we
really had no choice. We’d put band-aids on the problems for years, constantly
bringing the cars in for repairs – which had probably cost more money and time
in the long run than was wise. Sometimes we do the same thing with the painful
things in our lives.
Sometimes, we just find ourselves sitting in our pain and brokenness,
applying band-aids of tears and food and avoidance and all kinds of other vices.
We wallow in our brokenness. We stare endlessly at the hole in the wall, the
leaking sinks, the broken towel rack, the cracked glass. We examine every angle
of our broken hearts, lost dreams, raging disappointments, biting failures, critical
losses, deep betrayals – and let the pain seep in. Then, we let it stay.
When I was at my counseling appointment this week, my
counselor brought out this large sign about the eight basic emotions: anger,
fear, pain, joy, passion, love, shame, and guilt.
We discussed the fact that these emotions are not bad
emotions. In fact, these emotions are tools. More importantly, they are gifts.
Take a look at Pain. That’s what we feel in our brokenness, right?
Now, take a look at the gifts of pain: healing, growth,
awareness. It’s hard to recognize any opportunity in the midst of pain, however.
Sometimes, we’d just rather wallow in our own misery than do the hard work of
climbing out of it. Usually, it takes some sort of catalyst to push us out of
our pain and into a search for some kind of lasting relief.
About a year after the cars died, we needed a fence. When a freak storm passed through our
neighborhood, an entire section of our fence came down, tearing apart our
little shed with it.
This was not something we could hide from our neighbors like
our broken master bathroom. It was a complete eyesore. Also, we have three wild
dogs we consider pets, and we needed to keep them safely in our yard.
So, I called three contractors for quotes to fix the fence.
We looked at our finances and decided how to pay for it. We scheduled the
repair date. Problem solved. And solving that problem made me think about how
long I’d been staring at our broken bathroom, the stress of it building each day.
After all, with the time and money it took to get this section of our fence
replaced, we could have easily fixed all the brokenness in our bathroom and probably
painted over that diarrhea-brown for good measure.
So, why fix the fence and not the bathroom?
Two reasons: urgency and visibility.
It is when our pain becomes both unbearable and visible that healing
can finally begin. Sometimes, we feel like we are functioning just fine,
despite our pain. We keep it hidden because maybe we are ashamed. Or maybe we
just don’t want to be the sad friend anymore. Maybe it seems to feel better to
stuff it down than dredge it up. Also, we convince ourselves it costs far less
if we just tote our brokenness around with us, alone.
But once we hold space with one another and share our
burdens, healing can begin.
'Two are better than one, because they have a
good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But
woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!
Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone?
And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand
him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken." - Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 ESV
In my upcoming release, Security Measures, heroine Triss Everett has been carrying a painful secret for so
long that she can’t even recognize how it has shaped her entire life. When that
secret comes to light, when she shares that burden of pain, healing finally begins.
It is my prayer that you will have the courage to share your
hidden pain – first with the Heavenly Father, who brings all comfort, and then
with a trusted friend. Bonus if you share with two friends. :) And if your pain
runs deep and long and haunts you on the daily, I encourage you to also seek a
professional counselor to help guide you to a constructive path of healing.
We only have to look at the cross to see the truth behind
the concept of healing through brokenness. Before Jesus was arrested, he prayed
in desperation that there could be another way to redeem mankind. He was
completely alone. His trusted friends couldn’t keep their tired eyes open long
enough to keep praying with him. Then, His body was broken for all to see – the
ultimate sacrifice with unfathomable pain. But through that brokenness? Healing. Redemption. New hope.
Have you experienced growth or healing through brokenness? Or
are you still searching? Comment to be entered to win this tray of Easter
sweets, plus your choice between a signed copy of Dying to Remember or an IOU for Security Measures when I get my ARCs in a couple of months.
Yesterday was National Pets Day and my social media feed was filled will all things furry and feathery, so I thought I’d take a minute to celebrate the animals in our lives. Over the course of my life I’ve shared my home with five dogs, three cats, six birds, multiple fish and a turtle.
Right now, I have two little dogs, named Judy and Penny. One was adopted from friends and the other is a rescue dog from an animal shelter. They are the alarm clock that wakes me up in the morning, the exercise buddies that drag me out to the park no matter the weather, and the little fuzzy companions that curl up beside me while I write. As you can see from the pictures, sometimes they like to creep up on me to see what I’m working on or if they can steal a pat. 
I’m very excited to share that I will be contributing a K-9 dog Christmas novella to the amazing True Blue K-9 Unit series. If you haven’t read this series yet, I definitely recommend you check it out.
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