The sun is shining brightly. It does not match my mood. The spring air is warm and inviting. I want to enjoy it. To grab a rake and start on yard work. To toss the ball with my son. To just lay under the clouds and watch them roll by.
Other families are starting softball season or garden planning or having a picnic. We are not. Instead we are navigating a health flare for me and an autistic regression for our oldest son.
They say broken is beautiful, but to be honest I’ve always been undecided about that. God called an unbroken world good. He was sad when it fell from perfection. He wasn’t pleased with sin and its effects. Instead, He had a plan to redeem it… to restore its wholeness.
Broken in and of itself is not beautiful. What displays beauty is how God works in the broken to bring about good.
To be chronically ill is to be reminded often that my body isn’t whole. I feel the aches of that far too much. Many times I wonder, “Where is the beauty in this?”.
Recently I was reminded of an old song I listened to as a kid. Part of it says:
“*If I was unbroken, I’d never know
The beauty of hope,
and how far grace will go.”
That’s what trials makes me think of – being in this broken place, reaching out for a helping hand, and realizing I wouldn’t know how deep God’s grace could go if I didn’t need it so much and so often.
I feel stretched and limited, but as I wonder if God’s grace is enough to meet me here, I find He is never stretched to max. His strength never meets its limits. As deep as my pains or frustrations or griefs or fears go, God’s grace goes deeper still.
I do not enjoy chronic health issues, nor do I count lightly the things our trials have cost our family. Grief comes in cycles. Acceptance is usually followed by another wave of frustration, like the one I am in.
I feel frustration and grief stirring. It is hard to describe the horrible feeling of being trapped inside your own body when it refuses to do what you want it to do. Its limitations make me feel like I am walled in. It becomes hard to breathe because I never know when I’ll get a phase of relief. Two days, two weeks, two months?
By the grace of God, we keep pushing through the days. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve prayed, “God just please give me enough strength or wisdom to do this one task in front of me.”
He does. And as He gives me what I need I feel Him remind me of truth:
Jesus is enough.
God cares about me and my family.
This is just a season.
A season we’ve lived through a hundred times before. It will pass and we will come out the other side. We will, I hope, be stronger for it.
The more seasons I live through the more confident I become that I’ll survive the one I’m in. The hard, bitter will pass and the sun will shine a little brighter. I’ll reach acceptance again. Lord-willing, we’ll even enjoy some picnics and softball and gardening.
Yes, an easier season will come along. And that’s where the beauty shines through. Not that we’ve merely survived, but that God’s promises have proven true – again. He’s worked a good work. He’s kept our faith. He’s grown something from the hard.
Brokenness isn’t beautiful. But what God knits together from our broken pieces?
Trust me – that’s downright breathtaking.
©️ Grace Baeten 2024
*Unbroken by ZoeGirl
The Misplaced Mom 
Leave a comment