A hurting and breaking world

Friday afternoon my neighbor of 30 years wrapped a rope around a tree, parked his truck next to the tree, called 911 to tell them he was committing suicide in his backyard, and stepped off the truck.

I was gifted with extra vacation time as they closed the office at 3:30 p.m. and shortly after I arrived home, the ambulance and fire truck pulled up. The emergency people went to the wrong house, loosing precious time because of the odd numbering of houses on our street. After they spotted him between the houses and they took off running, my husband and I arrived moments after he was pulled down from the tree. We stood and watched as they revived his heart, but his eyes never opened.

Immediately I began regretting not having gone over to sit on his front porch with him when we knew he was not himself. My husband had gone over some days before to learn he had hurt his back and had lost his job. We had been watching him sadly sit for hours on end on his front porch and we gave him a friendly wave every time we were in our front yard and he waved, but I never went over to sit with him. Would it have made a difference?

I have to keep reminding myself that I am never good enough for God, but God is always good enough. God is sufficient. I am a sinner. I do not do those things I want to do.

I have been numb all weekend. I have been praying all weekend. I've been praying for his family. I've been praying for him in his last days of breath, although his brain was dead, his body was not. They took him off life support Sunday morning and he passed away around midnight as Labor Day came in, and he rested from his labor of pain.

Why did he choose this method? Why did he call 911? I've come to the conclusion that he felt this was the surest way to take his life and that he was loving his family and neighbors in his last moments by not allowing them to find him, but rather the emergency personnel. His last act was that of love.

There isn't one of us that isn't playing our unspoken broken.

Broken job, broken back, broken joy.
Broken brothers in health issues.
Broken home in which you lived for 56 years as the value goes down as they tear down a building for a new police station and jail.
Broken independence no longer able to do for self and no longer able to help others.
Never married, no children
The broken pieces of life.

How do we live our broken life with our broken heart.
How do I live feeling broken and not good enough?
My eyes were open and yet I did not think to act.

That you are what you love. That you only love as much as you are willing to be inconvenienced.

Can this brokenness make abundance?

I shared with you earlier this year my brother, who passed away on Memorial Day in a motorcycle accident. I learned of all those that reached out to him and saved him from his suicidal depression. I was thankful.

Now on Labor Day, it seems all too coincidental in that God is speaking to me that another would take his life. One ushering in summer and one ushering out summer. It seems there is a plan in life and no matter what we do, whether to save a life or not save a life, whether to act or not to act, God's timing in taking us to heaven is of his own and not anything I can do.

The measure of your willingness to be broken again is your measure for communion and intimacy. The best way to de-stress is to bless. The way to live with your unbroken heart is to give it away.

In a love that breaks and is given horizontally out to a hurting and breaking world. . .

You do not have to be afraid of broken things because Christ is redeeming everything.

Some of the words here are from this video by Ann Voskamp.



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