Purposeful brokenness

Purpose. The life in ones veins. The path to their walk. The table in which they sup at. 

Purpose is so important.

Without purpose, a person will feel unfulfilled, lost, and depressed. 

We are masters at creating a fabricated purpose, one that tries so very hard to pave the way to happiness and contentment, but we fail so many times. Women are especially good at overextending themselves because they think keeping busy equals purposed fulfilled. Alas, that same old feeling of desolation and disappointment still linger, despite how full the calendar is. 

There are some who look for their purpose by comparing and mimicking others. They try their hardest to adapt their lives and skills to fit the mold that another possesses because they feel that their  purpose is looks sparkly, shiny, and worth something. 

Let me share with you my purpose right now. But first, let me warn you. It's nothing sparkly. It's not neat. In fact, it's messy. But it's mine. 

Brokenness. 

Are you asking, "Can that even be someone's purpose and calling?" 

I assure you, I asked the very same question. In fact, sitting at my laptop for the last few days I have a note to myself that says, "Maybe my brokenness IS my purpose?" 

Those feelings of discontentment and loneliness have reared their ugly heads a number of times in the last year. Purpose was a distant and illusive thought in my life. I wanted it. Desired it. But wasn't really understanding where it was. 

Then this thought popped in my mind. What if, in this season, being broken was enough? What if my feelings of sorrow, and sadness were more than just something I needed to get past? Was I forcing out of my life something that God had placed there for a reason? Perhaps. But I still wasn't convinced. 

Then I began to look into God's Word. Were there any people that God used who had the vocation of "the sad guy"? Oh my, yes there were. There are so many people who's ministry, for a season, was to be broken. From this wreck of emotions, the most comforted words were formed. The most amazing plans were revealed. And the most beautiful gifts were given.

David

This guy was really in the trenches. His best friend's Dad is chasing him down to kill him. His own son tried to off him for the throne. And his child died due to his very sin. If this doesn't fill the position of broken one, I don't know what would. Yet, look at the book of Psalms. Chapter upon chapter is full of God's love, mercy, comfort, and glory. Not a single word could have been penned without David understanding his humanity and pain. 

Jeremiah

This prophet knew what it meant to lament. We have a whole book full of his cries out to God because of his heartache over Israel's sin and punishment. Battered and broken, this man was given the Word of God, not shunned and put in a corner because he was torn up with sorrow. 

Hannah

Sweet Hannah, a woman close to my heart. She knew the ache of being without a child to hold in her arms. She was mocked and ridiculed by her husband's other wife who easily had children and was sure to rub it in her face. Yet Hannah willingly took her splitting heart and laid it at the feet of her Lord in prayer. Sweat and tears were mingled together with a hope that God would even just listen to her petition. 

All three of these folks, and dozens more, are pictures of those who went through seasons of being broken and God was right there with them, using it for His purpose. 

I want to be that. I fully embrace now that I am one hot mess from day to day. I thought I was doing OK, but I was fooling myself. The heartbreak in my very soul runs so deep that I can't help but carry it with me every moment. Sure, I smile, laugh, and dance. I thank God that I can do these things. But the heaviness is always there, crushing me, and making me fall constantly to my knees. 

I see that my purpose in this season of life is to be utterly, completely and fully broken. I'm finally embracing it. Kind of because I just can't hide it, some because I'm tired trying to be something I am not, but mostly because God desires me to take hold of my humanity and let him take hold of me. 

We shall see what this season, what this purpose for my life will bring. Maybe like David I will pen words of comfort to share with others in the pit of despair. Maybe like Jeremiah, I will hear from God. Or maybe, just maybe, God will grant me the desires of my heart, like Hannah, that I can not even utter. 

Left behind

When we moved to Tampa, back in 2007, we knew we hit the jackpot. Warm, sunny weather... check. Tons to do... check. Tropical paradise... double check. 

Samantha was only 7 months at the time, so this is all she has ever known. Molly and Clara were both born in the house we live in now. (Well, not literally. I can't handle home birth. I like cable T.V. and 3 meals a day brought to me,including snacks, way too much.)

So when we got the news that we will be moving in June to a new assignment, well, my emotions were mixed. Excitement for my husband, as he has proven that he is a rock star in his career and is ready for a new adventure. Happy for Sam and Clara because they may have their first white Christmas. Ready for some change, as the walls in our home are not so white anymore and the carpet's sanitation is truly questionable. 

But along with these feelings came others. Dread. Complete and utter devastation. Sadness. Anxiety. 

Can I just get real for just a moment? 

Before losing Molly, I was just clueless. I didn't get that there was a world around me that hurt, felt alone, or really were on the verge of losing it all. When I would meet someone who lost a spouse or even a child, I just could not relate to their emotions whatsoever. I hadn't lost either. So my natural response was give my verbal condolences and move on, without a second thought.  Because let's be honest, feeling sad isn't something very popular in America.

The thought of this happening in our new home somewhat cripples me now. Knowing that the majority of people we meet will not really care much about who Molly was, and none of them would have met her, breaks the very framework within me. I can't handle it. 

Sure, there are always going to be those around me who care, who heard her laugh, felt the warmth of her smile, and got to experience a true "Molly-ism". But my everyday people will only know us as a family of four... oh, and they lost a daughter to cancer. 

It's bad enough that she will not be going with us, but that there will be new experiences and memories without her in them is heart breaking. 

Yes, I know life must go on. I want that for us. I want my girls to enjoy life and carry on the many lessons that they have already learned to become the amazing young women I have no doubt in my mind they are supposed to be. 

And my goal in life is not to make each new person I meet feel uncomfortable as I speak about my child that is now in heaven. But I feel I would do the world an disservice if I didn't talk about her. Tell her story. Share her picture. 

What am I getting at? Well, this is going to be one hard change. And I am totally, 100% not ready to do this. But when I said "I do", I meant it. When Peter signed that paper to join the military, he was completely committed. (And I love that about him.) But neither of these things mean it will be easy. In fact, I'm certain it won't be. 

As I sat down thinking about these things, a thought came across my mind. When we are at our most broken, I mean down on the floor lying in a mixture of tears and snot (me the other night, no judging my ugly crying) that is when God becomes so real. Without me acknowledging my utter depravity and brokenness, I am just a confident person, walking around thinking everything is OK, that is until I am back on the floor. It is better for me to know this pain and weakness so that I can fully rely on Him and what He will accomplish. 

My Lord knew a long time ago we would get orders to move... one week after Molly's angelversary... and He is equipped to get us through this. I just need to let it happen. 

So let this be my official announcement: 

I, Julie Little, do hereby acknowledge that I am an utter basket case from now until the time determined by who knows what. Therefore, I will be gracious and kind to myself. I will say "'no" when I need to in order to preserve my energy and sanity. I will participate in life when I can, and when I can't, I will take a nap. I will focus all my efforts and energy on the tasks given to me, mainly raising my kids and loving my husband, nourishing relationships that God has clearly asked me to nourish, and all else will wait until another time. 

So, if you see me, and I don't engage in a full, deep conversation, you know why. And if I do chat it up and have some strength and joy, you can rejoice with me that God  is doing a work.