Beautiful Broken

We try so hard to hide our scars.

We work diligently to cover signs of aging.  We spend billions on face lifts, tummy tucks and hair implants in an effort to fool ourselves and others that time and trials can be erased like chalk on a blackboard.

We aim for smooth perfection, though few of us achieve it.

But there is no escaping or covering the deep wound of losing a child. All the make up in the world couldn’t return my “after” face to the carefree expression of “before”.

Photo filters and special effects will never recreate the light of eyes that did not know the sorrow of burying my son.

I am broken.  This life has made cracks in my body and pierced my soul.

My wounds can be offensive to others–a reminder that they, too, may receive a blow that can’t be concealed.

The truth is that none of us escape hardship in life.  All of us have hidden heartache.  We all have cracks in our polished persona.

Dominic could be brutally honest.

A promise I made to myself, in honor of him, was that I would not hide my heart behind a false front or a fake smile.  I would allow others to see both the brokenness and the usefulness of a life lived with pain.

Recently I was introduced to a Japanese art form called “kintsugi”. Artists repair broken pottery with lacquer dust mixed with precious metals, joining the cracked pieces and highlighting the imperfection.

According to one source, “As a philosophy it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.”

What a beautiful tribute to truth!

My brokenness is part of me, but so also is the healing.

Revealing my wounds, I invite others to reveal their own. Sharing my pain, I encourage others to share theirs.  Opening my heart, I welcome you to open yours.

Displaying my scars, I uncover the glory of the God Who is healing them.  

This priceless treasure we hold, so to speak, in a common earthenware jar—to show that the splendid power of it belongs to God and not to us.

2 Corinthians 4:7 Phillips

 

 

 

 

Author: Melanie

I am a shepherd, wife and mother of four amazing children, three that walk the earth with me and one who lives with Jesus. This is a record of my grief journey and a look into the life I didn't choose. If you are interested in joining a community of bereaved parents leaning on the promises of God in Christ, please like the public Facebook page, "Heartache and Hope: Life After Losing a Child" and join the conversation.

6 thoughts on “Beautiful Broken”

  1. ❤️💔💝💖
    You are so loved and such a blessing to me – I appreciate your authentic self – it stirs my soul to hope, courage …

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Melanie , I’m happy to see this post today. I too am broken..I lost my 25 year old daughter 8/1/15. I look in the mirror and my eyes are never white or bright anymore, my eyelids look droopy, unless I’m smiling I always look sad. I’ve recently thought about getting “work done” but somehow doesn’t feel right. After reading your post, I realize I’m not alone, and I need to be real. After all, I’d like Jesus and Alanna to recognize me when I arrive.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Arleen, I am so very sorry for your loss and your pain. I see the change in my face and eyes and think sometimes too that maybe I should try to spruce myself up a bit. Like you, it just doesn’t seem right. I think our grief lines will be badges of endurance and marks of faithful love. Praying that you feel the Father’s arms around you and that He floods your heart with His mercy, grace and love. ❤

      Like

  3. The painful part about living with my sorrow and brokenness exposed is that many people do not appreciate it. I’ve had harsh things said to me in response to my honesty. In response to my refusing to pretend and wear a mask.
    Sometimes those words that cut me were uttered by someone I felt safe with, someone I thought had accepted me with my scars and pain.
    I’m now learning how to live with that as well.

    Like

  4. “A promise I made to myself, in honor of him, was that I would not hide my heart behind a false front or a fake smile. I would allow others to see both the brokenness and the usefulness of a life lived with pain.” That part resonated so much with me. In preparing for the arrival of my daughter, I regularly journaled. Love letters to the growing life in my womb. Looking back, I realized I had already made this promise to my child. “To be authentically me. To show my daughter what it means to be an authentic woman.” I appreciate again how your words mirror my heart and my soul. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

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