Being bent but not broken; to be stretched and bent and taken to the very limit of what I think is possible… and then pressed and bent more. At first I see only the pain of it, the frustration of it, this testing making me angry even. In this uncomfortable position… so outside my comfort zone, my perspective is limited.
The One holding me knows where I am, every movement and in every position. As I am being bent, I see how much I need Him, and… something else… that I am not broken.
I have been so discouraged that I haven’t even wanted to write. Thinking I was broken, useless and unable to do what needs to be done. All my creative life blood seems to have bled out, with the loss and grief. My position as mother is being transformed/bent and reformatted/bruised with new challenges and skills… and my family doesn’t like it. And I admit… I don’t either, at times. But still He knows and stands close by.
I am being bent, like a reed in the wind of God’s breath. Bent to the ground at His feet. Laying here bruised, weeping and in pain from the crushing weight I have carried…. but not broken. Though I feel so alone and in the dark. And then… He whipsers… and like a gentle breeze… I am lifted by His words and His promises. Soon my hands are lifted into the air, supported by the prayers of the saints, those reeds who’ve already been bent low and now know the strength, that comes from the weakest places.
Unbroken, in this moment, in His presence always. Today, my face touches His feet. The burdens of this transition fall as dew-like tears… but His hand lifts this bruised reed, so that those tears fall into His scarred palms. The weight of them falling releases this reed, that I am, to stand again.