restore

I grew up with immense admiration for my great grandmother. Suzie was poised energy, accomplished and adored. When someone commented that they had never seen Suzie cry (even though I had secretly witnessed her shedding tears behind a partially closed door), I mimicked her battle plan as my battle cry. I pushed down hidden fears and tears for three decades. 

In 2012, I broke. 

What I didn’t realize at eight years old, I learned the hard way at thirty-eight years old. Muting how you really feel and view things will swell pride within our broken until they fracture wide.

The grace I learned at thirty-eight years old taught me that there is a midst of beauty in broken things. Broken things bubbling to the surface; pointing us to seek an equilibrium of peace, we groan desperate. The places we perceive as unravelled steadily becoming a dance of surrendering grace.

We all have broken places, places the enemy knows he can slither and spit at our souls, weakened divots where we feel less than our best and our humanity shows proud.

There are a million steps that will forever change and break and mold you. While we won’t be fully perfected on this side of eternity, those broken places can be your holy ground. 

The beauty in the broken things force us to seek a healed and sealed restoration that we wouldn’t otherwise seek. Those healed scars now transformed to beauty marks of grace.

“He redeems my soul in safety from the battle that I wage, for many are arrayed against me.”     Psalm‬ ‭55:18‬ ‭