I was thinking about my last post and it’s hard to articulate the deep loss I felt that day. It was like the tears were this sort of vomit that came from the deepest parts of me.
We are locked in our own prison, dead and dying on the inside while on the outside you would never know.
We have learned to hide it so well. We have glued our happy mannequin mask on tight. Living day to day…but inside there is a constant battle raging.
In my brokenness I was held captive by my thoughts that filled the empty void: Hopelessness. Worthlessness. Shame. Judgement
One day the light broke in through the darkness and mercy and grace poured on me. Like a puzzle, God put me back together.
The picture above is a sewing table from my Great Grandmother. The top of it was wood and was peeling from a lot of water damage. I had a table from my other Great Grandmother that had this beautiful tile on it, but it was also broken. I put them together and made a beautiful top for my sewing table.
It is in the fractures and wounds of my life that I have found the most beauty, growth and HOPE.