I hid behind my pretty little stained-glass-window life until someone threw a stone (Metaphorically speaking.) that crashed right through it and, before I had time to repair the damage, it all shattered. The broken pieces of my pretty little life cut me deep as they fell to the floor. Suddenly, there was nothing left to hide behind. Somehow in the time frame of about three weeks everything I had shoved deep within myself surfaced and everything I called my life was lost in one way or another. Every single day brought a new challenge and a new heartache. I learned never to say, "This just can't get any worse..." because it always does. What I once called my life became a memory that I couldn't bring back to reality -no matter how hard I tried- the damage just wasn't repairable. Everything that once brought me joy suddenly only brought unbearable heartache. My life shattered and fell apart, and with it so did I. Nothing really mattered to me anymore; my only concern was finding a way to make it through one minute at a time.
I had always wondered what it would be like to lose the facade, but I never had the courage to find out. Yet in the midst of my absolute brokenness I didn't even care what people thought. When people asked me how I was doing I didn't plaster the cheesy smile on my face and say "I'm doing great!"; for once I was honest. Only a few people knew the depth of what I was going through, but everyone knew I was going through something. Everyone could see I wasn't my typical bubbly self. I even fell apart in front of so many people. Your girl was wide-open. Tears came when I least expected them-actually, the tears never really stopped-they were always there just waiting for something to trigger their downpour...I expected everyone to say, "Stop crying, get over it, and move on." I expected people to throw my own words back in my face, "Life is how you look at it and how you look at it is a choice." I expected people to call me weak and pathetic. Honestly, quite a few people did exactly what I expected them to...But the people that mattered were the ones who held me as I fell to pieces and told me it was okay. People would say, "You've been through so much, so fast, it's completely understandable for you to be struggling with it all." I couldn't even wrap my mind around that concept.
One night I was sobbing in my Moms arms telling her that I hated how broken I was, but no matter how hard I tried I just couldn't fix anything. I told her how frustrated I was that I couldn't just push past all of it and move on. I told her how disappointed I was in myself for not being able to snap out of the desolate, depressing state I was in. She let me get everything out and then she said, "Christie, some things only time can fix....It's okay to admit you're broken and wounded, anyone in your shoes would be. It's okay to cry and fall apart. No one expects you to be strong right now. You've been through so much. You need time to heal and work through all this. No one is going to look down on you for that." I couldn't believe she said that to me. In my mind, I was supposed to be the unshakable little Christian girl. God was supposed to be my solid, unshakable foundation; didn't falling apart mean He wasn't doing His job? Would people watching me fall apart think it was because my God wasn't faithful? As a Christian I was supposed to be representing God...How could it possibly be okay to fall apart, admit I'm broken, and give myself time to heal? What kind of example would my life be? An example of brokenness? How was that "okay"? I didn't understand.
I so wanted to be strong and show that even in the midst of my broken life God was still good, faithful, and in control. I wanted to be able to say it didn't hurt and I wasn't struggling...But I just couldn't. I was hurting and struggling. Everyone who saw me could see it.
One day I just happened to open my Bible to Ecclesiastes 3, and here's what I read:
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
Here I'm reading that there's a time to heal, to weep, to mourn, and to mend. Could that really be true? Is it possible that it's not only okay but there's even a time for each of those things?
Yes. In time I discovered that there really is a time for everything...
During that horrible season in my life I began to realize that in order to be a Christian I don't always have to "have it all together". Fact is, life isn't perfect, people mess up, evil exists, sin is inevitable, some things are hard, and some things hurt. By denying, ignoring, and hiding all those facts what kind of example was I portraying? That I'm just another fake, hypocritical Christian? I don't want to be like that.
With God's unfailing love and faithfulness I'm finding the strength to accept that my wounds, shortcomings, struggles, and weaknesses are there, and I'm learning how to deal with them-rather than ignore them. I can't help but think this is how it's supposed to be...
Time is really the only distance I have between myself and the terrible, broken state I was in...Honestly my life still looks a lot like a pile of shattered glass, and there are days it still hurts. But God is so good, He is faithful, He has an incredible plan, He's never left me, and at the end of the day He's all I need.
In the last eight months of my life, through all my brokenness, I can see that God was there and He was working in the midst of it all. "All things work together for good." For some reason I had always assumed that "all" things only meant the "good" and the "pretty" things...But the past eight months of my life are a perfect example that God can use the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful.
Somewhere in the past eight months I stopped trying to deny and hide all the ugliness in my life; it was only then -when I accepted it- that God was able to begin turning it into beauty...Looking back now, I can see a lot of beauty...
Wow. Crazy how God can turn something wrong into something so right...I'd be crazy to try to deny or hide that fact.
God is healing in my brokenness,
and strength in my weakness.
He is beauty in my imperfections,
and joy in my sorrow.
He is comfort in my struggles,
and peace in my storms.
I've come to need Him in ways I've never let myself need Him before....I can honestly say that God is my everything.
My life is a pile of shattered glass that I can't fix, and I'm not afraid to admit it, because God can bring good from it.
No more facades. No more stained glass windows. No more trying to be perfect. No more hiding.
I am just a simple human, weak, and sinful girl...But it's really not about me. It really never has been.
From now on I'm gonna let God use the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful in my life. I'm gonna let Him be His perfect, incredible self and when people point to me I'm going to point them to Him. I am not going to even try to live up to some crazy standard of perfection. I. am. not. perfect.
It's just too bad that God had to shake me...So greatly...In order to make me see...In order to change me. But what matters is that I see now...I have been radically changed, and I am never going back...