I remember it well. Just over a year ago I was driving the girls to school. The sun was shining and my heart was full. I had never felt better or happier. A song came on the radio, and these words swirled in my head and my heart…
Make me broken, so I can be healed…
Make me empty, so I can be filled…
I remember having a secret thought,
My life has been so easy. I am so blessed. Will I ever be broken?
I remember it vividly because it was such a shocking thought. Almost like I was daring the fates. As though I had been cheated from some strange, beautiful pain. I was feeling so good, so capable, and so in control of my life that my psyche was foolishly saying bring it on. The haunting song painted brokenness as poetic. And my romantic soul didn’t want to miss out. How arrogant. And how very naive.
Because, of course, I WAS broken. Very broken, indeed. I was so skilled at hiding my brokenness that I didn’t even know I had it. 37 years of pretending and shoving my pain and brokenness into the deep recesses of my soul was about to be Just. Too. Much. I did not know I was on an inevitable, steep, downhill journey to more suffering than I dared dream possible. My rose-colored glasses would soon shatter. My carefully crafted persona would falter. I would fail, breakdown, face my hurts, habits, hang-ups, and remove my mask for the very first time. Little did I know that the words of this lovely song were an eerie foreshadow of what was to come.
And yet. In that moment, I was oblivious to the monster that lay in wait. My monster. My fear. My sin. Me. I sang with a happy heart and dreamed of what it would be like to be so broken…
I’m praying for the words to share what happens next in the story! Check back with me, soon.
Keep Making Me by Sidewalk Prophets
