I believe that both of the men who have broken my heart don’t understand what they really did. Perhaps don’t care, but probably don’t understand.

They both come from families that are still…one. Together. They didn’t experience divorce as children, like I did. In my most vulnerable moment with the person I’m still in love with, but who has decided they don’t want me or the relationship…in my most vulnerable moment with him, I almost involuntarily began crying and said, “please don’t leave me.” And this at a moment that indicated nothing of our relationship ending, if anything, a moment of sweet connection. But the loving connection produced in me so acute a fear and surfaced my deepest memories of love being that it leaves…and on top of that the loss never really validated…well…what can I say? The man couldn’t know what type of death it would create in my heart when he disconnected and…left. It actually makes me want to die - that would seem less painful than this. He is deciding for himself on this sort of death and feels the consequences are bearable, but in me, it produces a re-injury to the destructive decisions made for me by others when I was powerless. His decision re-injures my hurt in a way it’s never hurt before…and I’ve tried bravely to keep living past it, and to, with all the courage I can muster in my being…love anyway. And which had, in focus, loved him. Everything I had in me tried to offer it. But this little-big heart wasn’t enough for him to love me back in a way that stays.

To think one of the easiest ointments to apply to this wound, one of the easiest earthly healings available, is just to have someone stay and keep loving - even when it’s hard. It seems like such a simple application, like it shouldn’t be so crazy that someone would want to stay with me…not leave…and just…love. It’s not so crazy, is it?

But these men don’t know what it’s done, the re-injury. The carelessness with my heart, not even offering a little closure to help. How do you move forward from here, believing someone you’re in love with will stay? Love you? My little inner girl doesn’t know and hasn’t seen it. I am trying to learn to be here for her - I am staying, I am listening. Inner healing, so sweet. Can not a man I love be even honored to offer the sort of outer healing that would come from their presence and love? Is it too hard a task? It doesn’t seem like it should be. I’d be honored to provide my love to someone else…to stay…to choose…to be kind in honesty…honored. Can not a man I love do the same?

I believe the pain can stop…at least as punishing as it is right now. It seems it may always be with me though. I pray I can get through this and be the compassion to another because of it. Lord, help me get through this.

It’s not fair, what he did. I suppose I’ve been unfair in the past – Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner. If someone is a heartbreaker, are they always a heartbreaker? If they’re a leaver, are they always a leaver? Perhaps we all break each other’s hearts, even if we don’t mean to be reckless. Perhaps we all leave each other, even if we stay. He hurt me deep, a wound that still hasn’t healed. And the worst part? He doesn’t care – yet I still care for him. I see his hurt and still care. That is what kills me. But also, what gives me hope; that I am ready to love through difficulty and trial. That I am ready to choose love over fear. He chose fear over love; ‘insecurity’ he said was his reason. How very sad.

I’m so angry. It’s not fair, what you did. Fattened me up with delights and then the slaughter. I actually thought you may have loved me – truly. But this was something else. Using. You used me. Perhaps we all use each other. Perhaps I should have mercy on you, a sinner. But will you stop? Stop using women? Stop wooing hearts to just leave them broken, in the dust? I don’t even think you know yourself, and that’s the real heartbreak.

When I realized I had done this to another, I was shocked…at myself. But how could he have loved me? We barely even touched. And never kissed. How could I have known? But how could I have not? Now that I’ve loved…now I know. I mourn what I did to him. His sweet heart. I just left him there to pick up the pieces. Gone overnight. I’ll miss you, he said.

I’ll miss you, I said. Had the other asked me for closure, I would like to think I certainly would have given it. Albeit uncomfortable, I would have given it. I’m the one who allowed the feelings to develop. And now am I going to take no responsibility for what has been planted? How brutal. ‘I’ll pray for you,’ you said. How hurtful. ‘I’ll pray for you.’ Even giving you the benefit…what a piercing thing. God’s beautiful communication and manner of goodness to us used to pierce? I’m not sure what to say.

God have mercy on us, sinners. We are so broken, O Lord. Hearts – beautiful, awesome, most precious hearts – they are not meant for breaking. Mine was broken long ago, but then built back up into its original design. It shouldn’t have experienced this. Hearts are not meant for breaking, not really. But in God’s great way, I choose to believe that He can make our hearts like a seed. Broken open and bringing forth new life. New. Make me like a seed Lord, make something new out of my broken heart. A broken heart. They’re not meant for breaking, but You can make something new.

A long time ago (and I can’t even tell you what we were talking about because I don’t remember), I had a friend say, “You’re very sad inside.” She almost jeered as she said it, though I can’t tell you why. More recently, while I was tearing up to the point of having to put my head in my hands, I had another friend say, “You’re so strong.” She looked at me kindly and I could tell she meant it.

There was a lot said, for better and for worse, in both of those responses, wasn’t there?

The friend-former’s comment always annoyed me…I thought to myself I have so much joy in Christ, more than ever! And all she can identify me as is deeply sad? I even pushed back on her and asked, “Is it possible that you’re wrong?” She insisted on this point, however, without give and sadly (ironically) without remorse. I now think though that she was right. I do have a sadness in me. I’ve graciously and thankfully recognized it more in recent days when my heart was breaking in a moment and instead of the person I was with getting uncomfortable, denying it, or trying to gloss over it…they just sat with me…comforted me…loved me as I was…sad! There’s a lot to be said for comfort. It’s like a healing balm on an open wound that allows it to heal in a healthy, God-designed way. But it can’t heal if you push it down, pretend it’s not there, and do everything in your power to hide it.  Oh, we miss out on so much when we aren’t able to let others comfort us! I don’t say this like it’s a cheap thing that anyone could do. Not only could this friend of mine not provide that kind of comfort, she could, at that time in her life, only really label sadness as “bad” and have contempt for it.

My sweet friend was missing out on something both gracious and true, something I’ve been learning recently: we all have at least a little sadness in us because we all have wounds and injuries from the past. Not one of us is excluded. I almost wonder if my friend saw a little bit of her own hurts in my vulnerability and wanting to reject or deny them in herself, looked down on mine instead. Some of us might be healthier than others, but I would bet you it’s due to the person’s own willingness and bravery to face those wounds with truth, grace, and gentleness, rather than to deny or hide from them! It takes a little time and a lot of courage to reflect like this and that’s probably why, when we’re hurting or discouraged, we seek out those people we know have really been through something difficult, some kind of suffering, and have put in the brave work of praying, truth-telling, reflecting, practicing self-kindness, and trusting God’s goodness when they can’t seem to grasp it for themselves at that moment or in that circumstance.  

If we label sadness in us as only “bad” and happiness as only “good,” we miss out on so much of the gift that has been given to us in our humanity—we’ve got a storehouse of richness and complexity built-in and the things we feel are a roadmap to God’s work in us. Individually and collectively, we’re all like majestic, intricate, wonderfully unexpected construction projects that God is continually at work on.

I wish I could say so much more about this, but I’m already getting wordy. I want to say so much more about the friend-latter too! What an abundance-of-grace statement that was! In a simple sentence, she validated the sadness rather than denying it’s pain or purpose, she stepped into the hurt rather than glossing over it, she comforted the open wound with a kind word rather than fearfully backing away because it’s uncomfortable. She’s a strong one too I’d say.

Not to diminish the real empathy a person can develop through their own experiences and difficult times, but there’s something very genuine to the maturing process for those who understand Galatians 2:20—I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me. To the heart that recognizes their own need for a full life they cannot offer themselves, but only through the sacrificial life and death of another greater than they…sadness, remorse, death, hardship, fear, pain…these are all things already considered. Their intimately personal identification with the winning-love-story allows them to walk into the wounded space of another and offer comfort. The Lord, past-present-future, is always ready, willing, and wanting to walk into our injured places, offering the purest healing balm of all. And like Him are His people, who being made-new and always ­being-made-new, may enjoy without question an every-growing capability to be comforted and to comfort based on their hope and fearlessness in a great love.

This was all really just a prelude, a quick “let me tell you first things first,” to the real construction project God has been gently, graciously at work on in my spirit. Real strength is gentle, you know. I hope to write about that soon.