It was the first Sunday after he was arrested. Four days since being released from that living hell of his abuse. And she was tired. Oh so tired.
My friend and I are going to church. Why don't you come with us? her sister asked.
She wasn't really capable of making decisions. She couldn't decide to go, or not to go and so she simply went. With the flow. In it. Part of it.
It was a beautiful May morning. Blue sky. Warm air. West coast spring in full bloom
She sat amidst the throng, her sister on one side, her friend on the other and still she felt apart. From the spring morning. The smiling worshippers. The laughter and greetings of the congregation.
She was numb. Cold. Alone. Filled with brokenness, her heart a thousand pieces shattered against the framework of ribcage holding her broken heart within her body. Every breath a painful inhalation of sorrow, a fractured exhalation of grief.
The music started. A band. One part of her mind noticed their joy, their happy smiles, their exultant voices. The other part scoffed.
What blind faith. How stupid. How ridiculous. Couldn't they see it was useless? Didn't they know there was no point?
The congregation stood and started singing with the band. She stood with them. She had no choice. She was part of the crowd. She was simply doing what needed to be done to fit in.
And she felt so alone. So apart. So distant. So different.
How could they be so happy? How could they express such love and joy?
She moved her lips as if to sing. No sound escaped.
She moved her eyes upwards, to the giant screen suspended from the ceiling. Her eyes followed the words of the song. Her mind slowly registered the letters, creating words from the groupings of vowels and consonants. Creating meaning.
Tears began to flow. She couldn't stop them, no matter how hard she struggled to stem their flow. They kept falling. She hid her face. Covered her eyes. And still they fell. And fell.
"Open the eyes of my heart Lord.
Open the eyes of my heart.
I want to see you.
I want to see you."
Seven years later, those words still resonate. Those words still quieten her fears, her tears, her sorrow.
Seven years later that song still causes her to pause, to pay attention, to wonder, "Is it possible? Could He love her simply because she is His child?"
The brokenness runs deep. She still doesn't quite believe. Still doesn't quite embrace the void.
Her mind is strong. Her thinking ingrained. She isn't strong on obedience. Not too good at blind faith. Her rational mind likes to be in control. To hold the reigns of her belief fast. She doesn't want to trust in the unseen. She doesn't want to give up her control.
And still, those words. That song. A balm to brokenness. A psalm of joyfulness.
Open the eyes of my heart Lord. Open the eyes of my heart.
It's One Word Blog Carnival Tuesday. Today's one word prompt is: Brokenness. Link on over to visit the One Word Blog Carnival at Bridget Chumbley’s place and you'll find the many aspects of brokenness pieced together in the heartfelt sharing of the bloggers who have come together today to participate in this delightful be-weekly event.