broken

It’s my turn to write today (Michelle L.) but I want to share these words from my friend Martha with you instead. Our mother hearts stretch as wide as the universe and are as fragile as a tuft of dandelion seeds.

 

My father calls and wants to know when I will write. Often.

And I’ve talked of vacillation before. Yesterday the sky was perfectly blue. This morning was grey, but wait! Now again, it is blue with swirly white strands of cottony clouds. Last night I had very little sleep which lends itself to a morning of need. Yesterday, I was a tinge frightened by the apathy I felt toward the (necessary) dependence I should feel on my Creator. And so as I approach Mother’s Day I take an assessment. (Really, always, everyday.) One of my children breaks me. Every single day. And it has always been. From the day she was born I was broken, and I am just not sufficient enough. Every morning we do the same dance, and I think: Really? Really? It is like some kind of SNL skit. At some point I think it must improve, but it doesn’t. And I fall flat. And there it is, this hardness, a difficulty that is really more than me. Sometimes I think back on former episodes of my life. And about change. About times when the Lord’s grace seemed to bubble over from inside and change seemed to take place quickly. But I am on no fast track now. I am slow to learn, I find myself often confused. But when in the right place the question arises: have you felt to sing the song of redeeming love? And I have! I have! The Lord’s love and grace is about change. And when I come to Him with my broken pieces (over and over) and childish questions (because I am such a child) I am never condemned, there is never a Really? Really? And this grace defines. It defines people as God’s children. By love and not by their sins. And not by mine. And so tomorrow I will try again (and the next day). And I know I will keep coming up short. I don’t know what this will mean, for my daughter or for me or for anyone else. But every hardness I’ve encountered has been a gift, a treasure that has brought me steps closer to my Savior.

6 thoughts on “broken

  1. This is different. I like it and the rawness of the message. They may break each day but there is a refining in there too between the breaking and maybe even at times during the breaking. They know of God’s love and although at times they do not draw their heart towards God fully, mercy is always awaiting them for them to claim if they will. I do think it may be good at times to admit shortcomings to children to help them not to internalize things as their fault if that applies to this situation. But they probably aren’t so abnormal as they fill. They have a good memory and ability to access. I hope the good times with the child will be so overwhelming and so transcending.

  2. Thank you. I almost didn’t read it because despite my best intentions, I’m having a lousy Mother’s Day and it’s not even Mother’s Day yet! But I’m glad I did. I have a child who breaks me. And despite my best efforts, I am SO broken once again today. I needed hope and here it was. Bless you.

  3. Yes. I have one who breaks me too, has on a regular basis since infant-hood. So nice to read that I am not alone! The older I get the more I lean on the atonement for help in this (and other) areas.

  4. Thank goodness for the atonement that will put our broken pieces back together. I have one too; a child that stretches me to my limits and makes those limits expand through painful processes.

    But I won’t lose faith in my Savior. I know he loves my child more than I do, and loves me more than I do and He will help me.

  5. I feel broken every day, too, but by different children. They seem to take turns breaking me. So many nights I have gone to bed praying that I will do better tomorrow. Now that I have five, I see how utterly unprepared and incompetent I am as a mother. It has challenged my faith. I need to do a better job at taking my brokenness to the Savior.

  6. the sentence that caught me and has swirled in my mind for the past two days is this: I was a tinge frightened by the apathy I felt toward the (necessary) dependence I should feel on my Creator.

    I feel that apathy too often, and through your example I am going to humbly seek grace.

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