To Mend A Broken Heart

Over the course of the last few weeks, I've started noticing a certain theme in some facebook postings, especially among my younger friends. I've been seeing a lot of reference to Valentine's Day, or more specifically, being alone on Valentine's Day.

Now I'm all for couples taking whatever opportunity they can find to display their love for one another, but I'm just not sold on the idea that purchasing flowers, candy, gifts and cards is the most effective way to do it - unless of course, your significant other's love language is gifts. But for the one whose native tongue is words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch or acts of service, candy and flowers just don't get it done. Especially when the underlying reason is basically because everyone else is doing it. What did we teach our kids about that being the reason for doing anything? But that's a conversation for another time.

The thing that disturbs me about Valentine's Day is that somewhere along the way, it has helped to promote the idea in young people (and some not so young) that if they don't have a "Valentine", something is wrong with them and they don't fit in. They have gotten the idea that their value as a person is somehow connected to whether or not they are involved in a "romantic" relationship. During my years in youth ministry, I can't tell you how many times I heard from young girls how much they wanted a boyfriend. They were so desperate for a guy (any guy) that their judgement would be clouded by the first charmer who looked their direction.

This desperation for "love" (and I use the term very loosely) is why so many young women find themselves in one bad relationship after another. And it is an underlying cause why so many of them end up victims of abuse - and worse.

February is National Mend A Broken Heart Month. This, partnered with my own experience in a bad relationship, inpsired me to, for the first time in a long time, tap my creative side to design something that will hopefully remind others of the importance of being aware of the hurting ones around us and what they need to enable the healing process. The verse is original, and the graphic is of several hands forming a heart, surrounding it.

The design is printed on ivory parchment paper, is suitable for framing, and is available for purchase on my business website, FreestyleBizSolutions.com. It is also available by contacting me directly.

During the month of February, for every print sold, I will donate $2 to Hope Alliance, Williamson County's only emergency shelter for victims of domestic violence and sexual assualt. I have visited the Hope Alliance office and met their staff, and I wholeheartedly support the work they do in providing safety and hope to the women and children who seek their help.

The original verse included on this print is shown below.

In the meantime, let me encourage you to hug a young person and let them know that they are valuable and precious. Not because of their accomplishments or talents or whether or not they have a boyfriend or girlfriend. Just because they are who they are. Maybe if we give enough hugs and words of encouragement, we can prevent at least one heart from needing mending.

To Mend A Broken Heart

A broken heart needs healing

A broken heart needs hope

A broken heart needs comfort

While it's learning how to cope.

A broken heart needs safety

A shelter filled with peace

A place where it's okay to cry

And find a sweet release.

Where loving arms are open

Where one can find a friend

Here in the warmth of unconditional love

The broken heart will mend.



Walk with Me

Music from the Heart: Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield

A few years ago, three friends and I (the core leadership team of what is now The River Fort Smith, an outreach church), felt a pressing need to get away for a few days to refresh, recharge, reconnect. So the four us piled into the car and headed to St. Louis to attend the Joyce Meyer Women's Conference. We jokingly called it our "Elders Retreat," but it quickly became a weekend filled with laughter, tears and memorable moments, with laughter presiding. Way before the weekend was over, we all knew this girly getaway was destined to become an annual event.

We have since left our mark on Tulsa & Branson. This year we made our trek through the Ouachita National Forest to Hot Springs Village for three days of doing absolutely nothing. It was glorious.

In terms of personality and life experiences, we are about as diverse a group as you can get, which is probably why we enjoy each other so much - and definitely why we need each other so much. But when it comes to a desire to bring hope, healing and restoration to hurting people, we share a strong and common passion. We are girlfriends and partners in ministry.

We have laughed together, cried together, made fun of each other, even hurt and forgiven each other. We have worshiped together, prayed together, and ministered shoulder to shoulder. We have seen each other at our best and our worst, from dressing up for a "Putting on the Ritz" dinner event to lounging in wrinkled pajamas with bed hair & no make-up. We have counseled each other, corrected each other and cheered each other on. These relationships are real, rich & genuine, and I wouldn't trade them for the world.

Back to Hot Springs Village this past weekend. This was a no-agenda, all-diets-are-off, total chill-time weekend with the girls. On Saturday, it was after 4 o'clock in the afternoon before we shed our pajamas and got dressed to go out for a little nature walk. It was a perfect autumn afternoon in Arkansas - a warm sun peeking through leaves of orange, red & gold, playful squirrels at every turn, and the unmistakably nostalgic rustling sound made only by feet shuffling through the leaves that have already found their way to the ground. It was perfect.

Being a photo junkie, a nature walk doesn't happen in my world without a camera. I managed to snap several shots of multicolored leaves, trees & sunlight reflected on the lake, and even a couple of a squirrel who agreed to pose for me. But my favorite picture is one that I caught when I lagged behind the other ladies while they walked ahead on the hillside path. It captures three friends walking side-by-side on life's journey, drawing strength and comfort from the presence of each other. While this picture may be found lacking in quality in terms of photographic excellence, it is priceless to me because of its content.

One of our little entourage is headed to MD Anderson in Houston next week for surgery. She will remain there for about a month, then recover for two more months at home before returning to work in February. Over the weekend, we presented her with a Healing Basket filled with all kinds of goodies - soft fluffy socks, candles, healing worship music, teaching CD's, her favorite candy, comfort foods, bath & body stuff, framed photos of the four of us, and a wide variety of other trinkets & tokens of our friendship. We also gave her a stack of get well cards, to be opened one per day while she is in Houston. Some contain inspirational messages or prayers, but most of them are designed to invoke laughter, which we all know is the best medicine for whatever ails you.

We are trusting our precious sister/friend to the capable skills of some of the leading specialists in the country But even more so, we are trusting her to the healing hands of the Great Physician, Who also just happens to be the One who designed and created her, knows her best and loves her most. She will walk through this experience with the three of us at her side, laughing, crying, whatever it takes to bring her through to the other side of this. And as soon as she is up to it, we have next year's trip to plan.

"Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
Just walk beside me and be my friend."

Albert Camus

He Is Faithful

Music from the Heart: Faithful To The End by Hillsongs

I am often overwhelmed by the goodness and faithfulness of God. When I stop and take account of even some of the countless ways He has proven Himself faithful to me again and again, I cannot help but respond with the tearful silence of a grateful heart that is humbled by His love.

I was in a conversation this week with a co-worker, and I found myself sharing a story from my past with her. It is one of my most precious memories of the darkest, most gut-wrenching time of my life. In the spirit of freedom that comes from genuine forgiveness, I will not share the details here. But the long and short of it is this:

My heart was broken. Everything inside me wanted to run away and hide, but my need to connect with a safe place to heal was more desperate than the intensity of my shame and pain. It was a Sunday morning, and I got in my car, not knowing where to go, but knowing I needed to be in church somewhere. I found myself in front of a church whose pastor I had known since high school and where I had attended several years earlier.

I waited until the service was well underway so I could slip in with as little notice as possible. I did not want to talk to anyone or answer any questions about what was going on in my life that had turned my world upside down. I just wanted to sit and soak in the worship and maybe the message. I literally sat in the last seat of the last row nearest the door and had every intention of making a beeline for the door as soon as the service was over. I told the Lord that if He wanted me to talk with the pastor, then to have him come to me.

As soon as the service was over, the pastor was standing in front of me before I could make my planned exit. He asked me two questions. First, he asked me how I was doing. I lowered my head to hide the tears welling up in my eyes, despite my best effort to keep them at bay. He asked one more question (more direct) and quickly discerned the source of my pain by my wordless response. He then took me in his arms and held me as I cried on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said.

So here it is, twelve years later, and I still cannot recount this story without tears. But now my tears are not because of the pain in my heart, because that has been healed. The tears that accompany this story now are the natural response of an overwhelmed, formerly broken heart to the sweet grace and limitless love of a personal God who gave me what I needed when I needed it. When I felt like I was literally going under, He threw me a lifeline in the discerning eye and fatherly embrace of a pastor who had recently lost his youngest child (a daughter, age 10) to cancer. That was the moment my healing began.

Over the years I have lost count of the times when I have been able to speak into the hurting hearts of broken women with the compassion and wisdom that only come from having walked the path they now find themselves on. It is the faithfulness of God to be true to His character and His word that carried me through a long and deep healing process. When I felt most alone and my days were the darkest, I kept returning to the knowledge that He loves me and He is faithful. He has proven it to me again and again.

And He will do the same for you.

Not to us, O LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory,
because of your love and faithfulness.
Psalm 115:1

Broken Things

Enjoying a rare long weekend together, David and I took Sheba out on a little "mini adventure" the other day. David had no sooner grabbed her leash than she was waiting at the door, wagging her tail and ready to go. That dog loves to ride in the car. It doesn't matter where she's going. She doesn't care. If she's in the car going somewhere, she's happy.

First stop, the dog park. For the first time, we were the only ones there, but that didn't stop our girl from heading straight for the pond for a quick little dip. Next, we went to the nature center, where the three of us meandered down one of the walking trails. Later that evening, I noticed Sheba was limping. At first I thought she had perhaps picked up a sticker or splinter or something. But closer inspection revealed something a little more serious. The pad on her right front paw was torn away in one spot. It was not a deep wound, but it was easy to see why it was tender. What was supposed to protect the flesh on her foot was no longer there.

She laid there patiently while we bandaged her up. It was like she was almost grateful to have the wound being tended to. For two days now, she has not fussed with the bandage, which is a far cry from the last time she got hurt. Last year she took a flying leap out of the back of David's truck and messed up all four of her feet. Since she wouldn't leave the bandages alone, she had to wear one of the big plastic collars that limited her movement. She did not appreciate that one bit, but it was necessary for her to let the wounds heal.

This time, though, she is leaving everything alone and letting the foot heal. By the next morning she was already walking much better, and the foot is healing nicely. I know she's "just a dog," but it's like she has learned the hard way that an unattended wound will not heal - something the rest of us would do well to remember.

Hiding from the broken places in our lives and pretending they are not there only moves us farther away from wholeness. We limp through life, trying to ignore the hurt in our heart, while it is blatantly obvious to everyone around us that we are hurting. We need the Healer to tend to our wounds.

First He cleanses the wounds, washing away all the debris that surrounds and causes infection. Next, He applies a healing ointment, a soothing balm that brings comfort. This is followed by a covering, which protects and allows the healing to begin. Many people want to stop here in the healing process. But there is another step that must be taken for the healing to be complete. When the wound is ready, the covering is removed so that air can reach it. This results in the restoration of the outer layers of skin, which provide natural protection. A scar is left, a reminder of what was, but the healing and restoration are complete.

There are things in my own heart that are in this final restorative phase of the healing process. While still unpleasant at times, I have no doubt that this is for my good, and that it is necessary if I am to walk in wholeness. Yes, the air on a not-quite-healed wound stings a little from time to time, but I can handle it. As it heals, it itches occasionally, and I want to scratch it, but this would only reopen the wound, slowing down the healing. I don't want to go there. I like it here and I like what lies in front of me.

The Healer is monitoring my progress. Broken things are being restored. Placing my heart in His hands was the first step. It can be for you, too.

"Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it;
I will heal my people and will let them enjoy
abundant peace and security."
Jeremiah 33:6