Everyone has broken places.
Life can be hard. So often we feel like the hardness we go through is the pinnacle of struggle—so we get stuck in that and stop seeing others clearly. Stop seeing their struggle.
Stop moving forward in the journey.
Or other times we actually like the horrible stories about what others live through. Because, maybe just a little, it makes us feel like however much life sucks for us, it sucks worse for someone else.
Then I look at the devotional question. (You know…that devotional that’s taking me waaay longer than the 60 days of abundance it’s built for. That in itself is symbolic. I mean…how often do I pass up abundance to grasp at what’s urgent?)
And the first thing I think of isn’t a wounded place, although I have those—bitter places where I was hurt and no one seemed to even be sorry. Traumatic memories. The hard moments in marriage and friendship and work and belonging.
No. What I think of first are the expectations. That constant need to respond to others’ expectations—the struggle against morphing into what they seem to want me to be in that moment. How that pulls me apart, fractures the wholeness, leaves piles of clutter to trip over as I go through life.
How can I pull back those broken places?
How can I accept my flaws, my cracks, my public mistakes? Go through it without being owned by it, to love myself and even the ones who leave me feeling unworthy (maybe without meaning to)?
Some of that comes from moving forward, stepping off on the life pilgrimage, maintaining that momentum even when there are obstacles.
But some of it comes from stopping. Noticing. Remembering I am precious and made in God’s image.
However many mistakes I’ve made. Whatever expectations I don’t meet…and maybe don’t need to meet.
My identity isn’t in age, race, political party, friends, or how much money I earn.
I’m not made to please some other person, although I am made for relationship. Connection. Love. Light. Truth.
I am made for relationship with God. To know God and enjoy him. To be enjoyed by him. To love others as he loves me.
There’s beauty in that journey. Enough to mend the broken places and make me whole again.
Picpus Cemetery is the resting place for 1,306 people executed during the Great Terror of 1794. It most famously houses the remains of the Marquis de Lafayette, hero of the American & French Revolutions.