Healing the Broke-Open Heart

Some weeks ago, one of our Pastors at church told us a story during her sermon about a man speaking to his Rebbe.  It went something like this:

"Rebbe, why does the Torah tell us to 'place these words upon your hearts'? Why does it not tell us to place these holy words in our hearts?" The rebbe answers, "It is because as we are, our hearts are closed, and we cannot place the holy words in our hearts. So we place them on top of our hearts.  And there they stay until, one day, the heart breaks [open] and the words fall in."--Parker Palmer, "The Politics of the Brokenhearted"

Have you ever heard the expression a "hardened heart"? Sometimes I think that's what happens to us as we go through a divorce. We get hardened hearts. We want to protect our hearts so we put up barriers to keep from getting hurt again. In essence we strengthen ourselves by thickening the outer shell of our hearts and making them impenetrable. In essence we are saying, "You are not going to hurt me again."

But it doesn't have to be a divorce that will put you in this hardened-heart state. It can be anything that hurts your heart and makes you not want to go through that hurt again. Losing a spouse, a job, a friend, or a beloved pet will do it. Having your only child go off to college just about did me in. Suffering through illness, setbacks, or accidents can do it too. It can happen when we go through any life changes--we grieve the life we lost and try to protect ourselves from any more suffering.

The problem is, that sometimes, by hardening our hearts--raising our "shields" so to speak-- we keep God out too.

For a long while after I got divorced the only thing my heart could feel was anger. This was the hardening of my heart. In the course of one year I had lost a marriage, two beloved pets and my home. I was angry at my husband, angry I had to go through a divorce again, angry I had to move, angry my life was in upheaval. I would say to myself, "Just get through the day, don't think about what's you've lost or question what lies ahead." I felt abandoned and unloved. It seemed for the longest time as if I was stuck in survival mode.

My pastor said in her sermon, "Survival mode can divorce us from hope; and hope is the nearness of God." That was the last thing I wanted. I wanted to be closer to God, not shut Him out. I wanted to envelop myself in His loving arms and have Him tell me everything was going to be okay. I wanted to feel hope again.

I would search through the Bible for divine comprehension as to why my heart had to suffer. I would look up verse after verse on hope and healing and suffering. Eventually I found a common theme running through all these passages: give it all to God and he will comfort you and carry your burdens. 

So I laid down my swords, lowered my shields, and let God near. All the scripture that I read, all the prayers I prayed, all the hope that I longed for fell into in my heart that had broke-open. I heard His promises that he would never hurt me and that my happiness was through Him and did not depend on someone else's broken promises or a weaver of lies. And you know what? He was right.

There is happiness to be found in living a life that is not based on any relationship other than your relationship with God. If you have that relationship--or THE relationship--others will surely follow. And if it took my heart breaking open to make me realize that, then I am willing to suffer the pain of a broke-open heart.

So what ever trial you are going through, what ever heartbreak you have suffered, what ever life changes you are in the midst of, know that there is promise in your broke-open heart. Don't divorce yourself from hope--bask in the light that is the nearness of God.

Out of the Deep

This past Sunday I had the privilege of singing a piece of John Rutter's "Requiem" with my church choir. The scripture that morning was the story of Lazarus' death and Jesus bringing him back to life. The part of the Requiem that we sang was John Rutter's interpretation of Psalm 130, "Out of the Deep."

This song is filled musically with all the longing that Psalm 130 verbalizes. It starts with a cello intro in a soulful melody and continues that theme throughout the piece. As the psalmist places his trust in the Lord, the music is lifted and hopeful. We were blessed to have one of the best young cellists in our area play for us and that brought the choir's "game" up another level.

The words to the song begin, "Out of the deep have I called unto you O Lord. Lord, hear my voice." How many times have I said that? And this got me thinking about how much my journey of faith has changed.

It used to be that I would only call to God for help when I was in distress. Having no where else to turn, from the depths of my despair I would cry out for help wanting instant relief from my misery. I wanted to get lifted out of the deep and have this crisis over.

One of the hardest things to do is to be thankful in times of trouble. When I am struggling with something or feeling hurt or deceived, the thanks I offer up to God leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. I literally struggle to physically speak the words. It is one of the hardest lesson I have learned over the years.

But why is it that we tend to think about God more when we are in distress than when we are joyful?

As people of faith, we are not just to look to God in times of distress but in times of happiness as well. As a parent, I love seeing my child happy and love hearing him thank me for the good times of his life. Why wouldn't God feel the same way? After all, we are the children of God.

I've said it before and I will probably say it again: in all things we need to be thankful. Good times and bad, joy and despair, hope and distress. In that way we keep God in the center of our lives, which makes even the really bad times seem not so bad.

Here's the Cambridge Singers, conducted by John Rutter himself, performing "Requiem II: Out of the Deep" by John Rutter:

Blessed are the Weak

I was searching through Facebook the other day and came upon this little saying:

"Don't ever mistake my silence for ignorance,

my calmness for acceptance,

and my kindness for weakness."

I am a strong, silent type. I know that is a description that is normally associated with men, but that's really how I would describe myself.  Steady, calm, kind. The problem with being the strong, silent type is you are normally seen as uncaring, or unemotional, or worst of all, a ... well ... b-word.

Have you heard the expression, "still waters run deep"?  Well, my "waters" make the Mariana Trench look like a ditch. I may be still on the outside, but like an iceberg, there's much more underneath the surface.

I don't show my emotions very well except for one: anger. I can honestly say that when anger rears it's ugly head I can see why the b-word comes to mind. But it takes a lot to get me angry. I can shoulder a lot of grief, a lot of sadness, a lot of hassles, a lot of stress, before my calm facade finally cracks.

It's funny how one little saying can bring out so much emotion in one who is normally not emotional. These words ring in my ears as a window to my soul, or a warning to the enemy.

My silence is not ignorance. It is the calm reflection of what my reaction should be. It is a listening ear to hear all the facts before I make my decision as to how I should react. It is keeping my mouth shut so I don't say something I regret or make a fool out of myself. And just because I'm not calling you out on your actions, doesn't mean I'm not watching you and don't know what you are up to.

My calmness is not acceptance. It is an external facade. It is maintaining control of my emotions on the outside while I fall apart on the inside. Just because I'm not screaming at the top of my lungs, "YOU ARE WRONG," doesn't mean I accept what you have done to hurt me. My calmness is the illusion of strength, even though sometimes I would love to be weak. But I don't ever get to be weak. Or do I?

My kindness is not weakness. My kindness is what makes me human. My kindness is a hope that someone will see me being kind or be the benefactor of my kindness, and will pass it on to someone else. Kindness is so simple, yet it is something with which today's society seems to have a problem. Why is it so difficult for people to be kind to other people?  I think it's because they think it makes them look weak.

If being kind makes me look weak, then weak I will be.  Most of you have probably heard this verse from the Beatitudes in the bible: "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth." (Matthew 5:5) Maybe it should read, "Blessed are the weak, for they will inherit the earth."

We may look weak in your eyes, but in the Spirit of the Beatitudes, it is in weakness that we are made strong. It is in weakness that we show our humanness. It is in weakness that we strive for sanctification. And, most importantly, it is in weakness that we are brought closer to God.

An Unbound Woman

This is a blog about my life as a divorced, working woman of faith trying to make it on her own for the first time in 30 years.  It’s not specifically about being single or being divorced, about faith, or even about being a working woman.  

It’s not only for women, but will involve a woman’s point of view.  It’s more about my observations as I attempt to make it through life as a single person in a couples world.  It will involve all things I love to do:  going to church, cooking, baking, singing, crafting, shopping and sometimes just plain nonsense.  

It will also involve my trials and triumphs as I try to get the yard work done, the cleaning, take care of the car, and all those wonderful household duties that are so much easier when shared by two (or more).  It’s about how I get through the days and go home to an empty house.  It’s an attempt to answer the question, “How did I get here, to this spot in my life?” and “What’s next?” It’s also an attempt to share some pearls of wisdom I’ve cultured through a life of 50+ years.

I don’t profess to be a good writer, but hopefully it’s not all bad.  Hopefully you will be able to connect with a few things I’ve learned along the way and maybe we can even learn a few things from each other.  

This blog is not done in real time (at the moment), mostly because I wanted to see if I could actually fill the pages with some interesting posts first.  Eventually I hope it will be.  Most of my experiences from this, my second, failed marriage will be done in retrospect as I just wasn’t in a good place to write all this down while I was actually going through the process.

Join me on my journey through this next, and hopefully best, chapter of my life.

Thanks for reading!

Sharon Lynn