So the oldest boy finally roped me into watching one of his favorite movies, “Facing The Giants.” I was highly resistant because it was a football movie, so I thought.
It goes through the story of a small town, no-win high school football team. About how the coach started introducing God into practices and ministering to the young boys and by the end…miracles, feel-good stuff and the lesson that nothing is impossible.
Predictably at the end of the movie, everyone is overwhelmed with emotional stuff and there is lots of crying. Except by me, because when I saw all the heart wrenching scenes and swelling music; I left the room. It’s what I do. I can’t stand those heart draining movies.
That’s not quite true. I love happy endings (I’m living in one) and I love when obstacles are overcome (I’ve been there) and when the music swells and there is clarity, peace and miracles; I do swoon and choke up.
Yet, I have to leave the room, close the book or add light humor to the conversation. It’s not because I am a grumpy fart, it’s because I have been broken and have not come back from that.
I don’t think the broken ever do.
There is a scene in the movie where the coach has an old car. It’s beat up, barely runs and requires the running joke of all supporting actors that jumper cables are as much needed as gas in the tank. Halfway through the movie, those that are impressed with his faith and impact on the school come together and buy him a new truck free and clear.
He’s standing in the parking lot looking at this new truck as his assistant coach reads the letter stating it is now his truck. The look on his face and his words of “not worthy of blessings” is all too familiar to me. It cuts to a side scene of those responsible for providing the truck looking at the coach absorbing the news. They are smiling and agree that not one word would be said for who was the “giver.”
In a week of my life, in the worst moments of my life, I was figuratively standing in a parking lot looking at a new truck.
I was broken, hopeless and giving up. I had almost given up on miracles and especially God. Every moment I didn’t know how I was going to make it. How was I going to raise my girls? What were we going to do? I couldn’t even afford to believe in “jumper cables” to just get me back home.
Then as I was standing there in that “parking lot” in life, God worked some behind the scenes miracles that I certainly didn’t believe I deserved.
I looked at this new life that was being just given to me, free and clear; requiring no payment from me except to just accept it. It had already been paid for.
By a Son sent from His Father for me.
To give me hope. To give me miracles. To give me a blessed life.
There is not a moment that goes by that I don’t remember that pinnacle moment where I was in a parking lot. Reading letter after letter from friends, strangers that were being used by a big God to change my life. I just had to say “Yes.”
I was no longer broken by difficulties, I was broken by blessings. Broken as a reminder of how much I was loved. Shattered into a million pieces as I realized that we would not fall or be forgotten.
So when I am watching movies, reading a book, reading a blog, listening to someone speak and they begin talking about miracles, change and blessings; I leave the room. It’s not that I don’t want to hear it; it’s that I can’t bear hearing about it because it slams that moment of brokenness back into me.
It reminds me that I was in that parking lot. It reminds me that there are those who are in parking lots in their own life. It reminds me that someone out there is broken.
It reminds me to get alone, get still and be quiet. It beckons me to fall to my knees and praise my Father. It creates tears that can not be stopped as I know that I was never alone.
…and frankly…it reminds me to continue to be broken so that I can continue to be rebuilt.
Categories: October Diary Entry