For as long as I can remember, I have felt broken. I have felt that there was something off in me. That I was needier than the person next to me. That emotionally clinging to the little girl on the playground didn’t seem right because no one else was doing it but I practically couldn’t help myself. That I overthought things more than the average person. That I worried too much. That I internalized. That I was too organized (as in, attempting to control my environment because I couldn’t control my life). That begging a man to marry me because I was certain no other man would want me was the way to go, the way to secure my future. That keeping in what I’m really feeling is a fabulous idea because I’m pretty convinced I will say something that will hurt or annoy the person I’m talking to, that I’m just too much to handle, so pretending I’ve got nothing to say and I’m fine is my go-to. I have had more precarious than strong relationships. Despite the million things in my life that are beautiful, I am just south of content a good deal of the time. I fake feeling normal. I sometimes fake being happy.
I don’t want to say – because I’m not ready to admit – that I thrive on chaos and hard times, but I think that arena may be my comfort zone, though deep, deep down, I would give anything for relational peace across the board. But at any given moment in my life, I could list off at least one – if not a half a dozen – strained relationships that leave my stomach in knots when I wake up in the middle of the night to ruminate about them. (And of course, there’s the obvious revelation pointed out to me by someone from my past that I appear to be the common denominator in all of these wonky affairs, so of course, I’m the misfit, the problem, the broken one.)
I feel, honestly, a good deal of the time like I don’t really know how to live this life.
So, why am I telling you all this?
Because I need you to know – you, sweet, wounded, longing-for-love girl, you – that you are not alone, in your pain, in your struggle, in your not-feeling-normal-ness.
I may have been walking with Jesus for over thirty years, I may have been released and rescued from a hard marriage, I may have done a ton of healing work during my four years as a single mom, and I may now be remarried to a kind man who loves me, but I still feel this way. I still, every single day, struggle. I still, every single day, do not feel whole. I still, every single day, feel broken to some degree.
Even with a husband who treats me well.
Even with a God who loves me more than I’ll ever understand.
Life is hard, to paraphrase Glennon Melton, but not because you’re doing it wrong…life is just hard.
And in this world, to quote Jesus, we will have trouble.
But, girls, our God is so very good to us.
Our God is for us.
Our God will never let us go.
Our God is our Father.
Our God is our Husband.
Our God is our Friend.
Our God is our Counselor.
Our God is our Refuge.
Our God is our Strength.
You may feel broken today. You may feel broken tomorrow. You may feel broken every single day for the rest of your life. But you will never be alone in that feeling. And God will never, ever leave you, and will never, ever stop loving you.
And, I’m beginning to believe, God wants more for us than mere survival. I believe this promised abundant life is filled with our healing, should fuel our hope, should breathe new life into ours. If we ask for it, if we let it, if we trust.
So let’s keep walking into our freedom and wholeness until that day when all we are is free and whole.
If you’re feeling stuck and need someone to talk to, I’d love to work with you one-on-one.