Broken

Posted by Maralise | November 5, 2006 | 20 Comments

I had just released the belt on my son’s car seat when I heard him utter a phrase no mother wants to hear. It wasn’t “Mom, I think I’m going to throw up” or “Look mom, I cut my hair (and my brother’s too!)” or “I hate you.”

Instead he said, “Nobody wants me around.” And frankly, it’s true. My oldest son is a bright, relentlessly obdurate and effusive child who, for lack of a better word, is difficult. In the nightmare that is the reality of my fears, his future seems like a very delicate piece of glass, easily shattered but hopefully reflecting a thousand points of light.

For these days you often look past me,
Moving away along paths unfamiliar.
I long to follow, to wedge myself
Into the space between you and your fears,
Between you and the world,
Between you and your sins–
But this is holy ground:
Private space between you and your God.

–excerpt from Darlene Young’s Alex, 9

I ponder the times that my own glass has broken into meaningless pieces only to be crafted back together into something less perfect but more beautiful. And yet, thinking of the future of my child, broken is never a word I want associated with it.

I wonder, have you been broken? If so, what have you made with the pieces?

Category: Liken the Journal

Comments

20 Responses to “Broken”

Amira
November 6th, 2006 @ 12:34 am

I’m broken now. The things that broke me probably wouldn’t have broken someone else. I wish I could just skip ahead to being fixed instead of trying to figure out what to do with those pieces.

This is a lovely analogy.
Courtney
November 6th, 2006 @ 11:05 am

My heart is broken just thinking of your son.

But this is all part of the experience, right?
Justine
November 6th, 2006 @ 11:57 am

The anguish of watching my children be spurned by other children is brutal. My son, a slightly odd duck himself, has grown and found a group of friends that are wonderful for him. I like that he has taken slightly odd ducks under his own slightly odd wing. He has the confidence now to not care if everyone else likes him. I don’t see him as broken anymore.

And, I don’t have time to be broken. I’m sure I am. But just as a broken piece of glass can still sit, seemingly together in a car window, if you don’t touch me, I’ll stay together.
maralise
November 6th, 2006 @ 4:57 pm

I guess I have found much beauty and fulfillment in my own life through putting together the pieces. To me, that process typifies the journey of this life. When trying to keep things perfect, one never figures out how to put the pieces back together and find something different, if not always better.

But, it is difficult watching my child do that. I am pained at the shattering of his illusion that people are kind (including myself sometimes). But, I know in my logical brain, that his journey will include being broken and I hope that I have the skills to help him learn not how to fix it, but to make something else with what is left.

Amira–feeling broken is definitely how I have felt for the last couple of years also. And I have spent much time and money figuring out how to craft and mold the pieces that I have to work with. And you know? I am a much happier person now that I’m not afraid to be broken again. I truly don’t think there is anything wrong with being “broken.” It’s just difficult when you’re not sure how to recreate yourself in a healthy way. So, give yourself a break. Maybe being “put back together” shouldn’t be our goal.

Courtney–yes. It is all part of the experience. It’s just not the easiest part.

Justine–I don’t think anyone has time to be broken. I just think some of us can hold the pieces together better than others. And that’s Ok too…
Sharlee
November 6th, 2006 @ 9:15 pm

I love this thought, Mara: “I ponder the times that my own glass has broken into meaningless pieces only to be crafted back together into something less perfect but more beautiful.”

Less perfect, but more beautiful. How often that is, indeed, the case. And not only more beautiful, but more meaningful, more authentic, more valued.

Beauty for ashes. (Isaiah 61:3)
b.
November 7th, 2006 @ 12:51 am

I have been very broken many times in my life. I was forced to deal with many horrific things as a kid. As adult life came on, many more trials to endure. Some I have handled well, some I have not. At my most broken…..the moment when I want to turn away from my Father in Heaven….if I will humble myself enough and sing the words, “Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?” it is the very moment that I feel His loving arms gather up the pieces of me in one giant swoop, and He assures me that “….all is well, it will all be worth it.” Having said that, I used to wish that “all” of that was endured so that my children wouldn’t hurt, the reality is that they get to experience ALL of the joys and sorrows that lie in their unique earthly existence. My question is: Do you think we KNEW “before” what we were up for here on earth? Right down to the finest detail?
Maralise
November 7th, 2006 @ 1:11 am

Sharlee–Ironically, the sealer at my wedding quoted that scripture in Isaiah. At the time I thought, “This guy is nuts, that has nothing to do with marriage!” Little did I know. The scripture corresponds exactly with what I’m talking about. Thanks for the reminder.

b.–You know, I’ve never thought about that. In your opinion, to what end would “knowing–in fine detail” serve?
Justine
November 7th, 2006 @ 11:14 am

I personally think “knowing” acts to validate the personal consecration we each go through. Having trials unwittingly foisted upon us somehow gives us an out. If we willingly chose to be submitted to the refiners fire through X, Y, or Z, we allow ourselves to fully submit to the Lord’s will, knowing full well what that will entails.

Who knows, maybe I’m wrong. But I feel that I knew. I have inklings and remembrances (usually after a trial has passed) that I knew. I’ve always known.
b.
November 7th, 2006 @ 12:47 pm

Wow, you really never thought about that? My ruminations over what or how much we knew before we came would take up wayyy too much space on a blogger comment page. I guess I just always pictured us in a big room in the pre-earth life and our Father, after explaining to us what was waiting for us on the other side of our earthly life, also said “…..all that I have is yours if you will endure but a moment of this test…..” and then as a list of assignments was passed around we chose what we would be willing to endure……and then the forgetting that the vail created erased the details and sometimes the utter commitment we had. I dunno, Justine said it beautifully….am I completely out there on this?
Angie
November 7th, 2006 @ 2:12 pm

We’re all broken. I’m glad to have been broken, and to have been remade. But still the challenge for me is to be totally present in the process–for myself and for others. It’s so easy to want to rush to the putting back together, but it is just something that can’t be rushed. Thank you for such a breathtakingly honest post.
Jennifer B
November 8th, 2006 @ 1:18 am

Maralise — Thank you for giving me something to think about. I can easily think of times when not just me, but especially my hopes and expectations for the future were broken. Fortunately, when I decided to stop being bitter and full of despair, I was able to realize that Heavenly Father never turns away from us although we often turn away from Him so subtly that we don’t realize it at first. I put back the pieces little by little and had to trust that the new creation could be just a beautiful as the one I had held previously.

b. — interesting idea. I can see how the thought that we knew or even chose our trials would help us to accept them. Personally, I don’t imagine it that way. I think we knew that we would be tested and tried and that if we chose to follow the Savior that we would be able to be obedient and overcome our hardships. I don’t think we chose our trials, but chose to endure whatever trials came to us. But I strongly believe our Father, who knows us perfectly, knows exactly what trials we need and can withstand. It makes more sense to me that He would choose our trials–although I don’t think each trial we endure is necesarily something chosen for us at all. To me, the question of whether or not I knew what specific trials I would experience is not as significant as the question of what I will do NOW that I have them.
Johnna
November 9th, 2006 @ 1:45 am

I hate that I’m lately viewing my kids as broken. I may succumb to the pressure to have one of my kids assessed for ADD, but investigating the whole ADD thing is putting our whole family in a new light to me–my whole family that I was perfectly happy with our different and happy way of being. Now it’s not *us*, now it’s just *DSM-IV*.

And of course, I feel very guilty about it. All my fault, I’m sure, passed on by nurture. My new way of organizing the broken pieces is to be practical and responsible and strive for the ordinary where before I exulted in the special and different and chased the fun. I hope the spark will glow in peace where it has danced in chaos.
Kathy
November 10th, 2006 @ 6:39 pm

“a broken heart and a contrite spirit” is one of my favorite scriptural phrases. I’ve been taught that “broken” means “shattered beyond recognition” and “contrite” means “ground into powder.”

It’s painful enough to endure it for one’s self–much worse to see a child go through it.

Everything good in my life has come through pain. I’m beginning to believe that the things we most dread are the things we most need. But that doesn’t matter–I still don’t want my kids to go through it. I don’t want them to be broken. This is why it’s good that I can’t control their lives. I would seriously mess up their development as divine heirs….
Rebecca P.
November 12th, 2006 @ 2:09 am

Thank you Maralise for this post. It has brought about some deep thoughts and consideration of my life.

I started to write a long comment about how I feel broken, then I wasn’t sure if it would fit here. So I opted to write a post on my blog instead.
maralise
November 12th, 2006 @ 2:31 am

Here are my thoughts after reading Rebecca’s post:

After writing my post, I realized that broken was a loaded term. It implies that we need to be fixed. I truly think that the person you were and the person you are can co-exist. It’s not always bad to be different from your old self. Because removing the circumstances that changed you also removes what you have learned from those experiences, the amount of empathy you can give to others going through something similar, and the wisdom that comes from living a less-than-ideal life.

I’m not saying that you need to stay exactly like you are (especially since you feel something is missing). But, don’t beat yourself up over feeling broken. Maybe one has to feel broken in order to know how to reflect the light that comes from all those shards. Good luck with your journey…
Rebecca P.
November 12th, 2006 @ 9:22 am

Maralise, I think everyone can benefit from a bit of fixing. Maybe fixing isn’t the right term, maybe just a bit of a tweak or improvement is a better thought. Sometimes what is most difficult is the weight on my heart, almost a burden, from all that I have experienced.

Sometimes I stand in defeat, wondering what could possibly go wrong next-usually when I do, I am greeted ever so quickly by the challenge.

Yet, when I stand strong and feel content I am often blasted out of no where with an unexpected issue. I’m so tired of battling for everything. I don’t want to have to exert all my time and energy simple surviving as I do now.

I think it is beneficial that I can admit my feelings of upset in my life right now. Admitting there is a problem is often the first step in finding a solution.

Questioning my existence, my surroundings, and my satisfaction in life has brought about a desire for a change. I guess that it would be unrealistic to revert to the person I was just three years ago, and yet I long to have such peace again.

I may not have grand plans or goals to move beyond this point as yet, but I know they will come.

Thank you for visiting my blog. I appreciate your thoughts and comments. I too hope that I can reflect the light from those shards really soon.
maralise
November 12th, 2006 @ 10:02 am

“Sometimes what is most difficult is the weight on my heart, almost a burden, from all that I have experienced.”

That is well-said Rebecca. I hadn’t thought about it that way before. I can understand that sentiment completely.
MA
November 12th, 2006 @ 3:26 pm

Maralise, your statement “I ponder the times that my own glass has broken into meaningless pieces only to be crafted back together into something less perfect but more beautiful.” really struck me, and reminded me of one of my favorite stanzas of Wendell Berry (I think it is from “Anthem”)
Ring the bells that can still ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Which of course reminds me of Ether 12:27 and the weakness that God can make strong. I think it is so revealing of our American culture that we always read that scripture with “weaknesses” and talk about it as if our weaknesses are a checklist to take to Gold’s Gym and pound into oblivion on the treadmill. But if you read the scripture carefully in the singular, you realize that we are innately weak and are intended to remain that way, depending ever on God’s strength.
Heidi
November 15th, 2006 @ 10:42 pm

I was in RS a few weeks ago and a person made some knd of comment on discouagement and how the gospel helps us to not be discouraged. She then used ME as an example, asking me in front of everyone if I were discouraged, despite some fairly obvious trials I’d recently had. I said, seriously, that I WAS pretty discouraged–but then quickly turned it into a joke. Really what I wanted and needed was the whole room to cry with me, but I just didn’t feel that the response would be helpful if I really admitted the depth of my hurt. Later I thought about what it means to be discouraged. It is the exact same word (French derivation) as “disenheartened” (English derivation)–literally to have one’s heart taken away or diminshed. It occurred to me that my heart HAS to be broken–it HAS to be taken away for me to receive a new heart in its place. If we are never discouraged, literally, we are never healed. We don’t receive the “fleshy tables of the heart” in place of the “stony tables.” That’s a bit of a stretch from the discussion regarding brokenness, but I think it refers to the same process.
Blog Segullah » Natural Born Mothers
December 14th, 2006 @ 1:35 pm

[...] Take Kathy, for instance. She has seven children, one of whom has disabilities. She has been broken and rebuilt, faced challenges to her mothering, crisis of faith and family, and still talks vaguely about having another child. She blogs lovingly about tiny socks and soft blankets upon learning of the birth of her fourth, did you read that, FOURTH child. (Kathy is going to vehemently protest me putting her in the â€œnatural born motherâ€ category. However, itâ€™s kind of like those people who protest that they are not organized. You canâ€™t argue with the fact that their socks are color coded.) [...]