Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Broken, For Purpose: Heart to Heart with Shelbi Lynn
‘God’s gifts put man’s best dreams to shame’
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The doctors voice was in whispers now, and his words came out in mechanical broken sounds…words he chose carefully – spoken in gentle hushes, as if he had rehearsed them a thousand times. A slight build – he was a small framed man with kind eyes. One hand held his cold metal clipboard, and the other – rested tenderly on my shoulder. Tilted head, ever so slightly, eyes meeting mine in a sorrowful glance. Cleared his throat… and then he turned, shut the door behind him, and he was gone.
I lay back on the metal table and heard the rustle of thin paper sheets beneath me, sounds fading, and inward surges of heat and cold plague my chest in dips and swirls. In waves it came. Yes, twenty minutes ago I was sitting in the office waiting room, blissfully chattering away with other big bellied mommies to be, sharing stories of impending due dates and odd cravings. I was going to have a baby. Over now. Gone. Searing knife-wound left behind. This unexpected ‘gift’ of brokenness – sinking in…slowly.
Pulling up from the exam table, shaking now. Sweater on, slow motion – one pant leg, now the other. Hand on cold metal door knob,Thoughts…scattered. Purse on armchair. Searching for car keys. Keep walking, no eye contact’. Empty, hollow heart, matching now the tiny tomb that had become my belly. And the office staff, chattering, moving about, papers rustle – unaware.
In the car now. safe, alone. my odd gift of shelter. cocooning me. Tears were somewhere, this I knew, but they had yet to appear. This was a moment for numbing. Survival. Hold it together. a twinge in my soul – thumping in like a beast, and there it was. that lonely yearning for the mother I needed. The mother I did not have. A dismembered relationship that left me scraping up pieces of myself in it’s aftermath. And so it was my reason for clinging to my dream. To be ‘somebodys mother’.
Landing on the hilltop. and there I sat for a long while. The city, so small below, air feeling emtpy against my heaviness. Each breath felt like a cry. Finally, tears come. streaming in, streaming down. And I cried out to a God who suddenly I did not know. This new God, the one who allowed this day to happen… who was He?
It’s been 26 years since my moment on that hilltop. I can tell you that I now have four healthy, wonderful children. My dream of becoming a mother did come true. But, it was not without making peace with a God who allowed 3 more miscarriages to happen. Four in total. Each one wrought with pain.
questions…
God’s reasons for our hardships this side of Heaven? In the midst of them, we question. It is our humanness that greets our darkest hours. And a loving God who will aid and comfort even when we push Him away. Loving us….against the hardened shell of our grief. Reaching down into our brokenness. Altering us. Grief shifting into strength.
Broken for His purposes. Altered by my brokenness, in order to be transformed into woman, friend, wife, mother. Brokenness cannot remain in Him. Meeting the lives of other hurting women….women who cried alone on their own hilltops – did not cry alone on my watch. Had I not been ‘broken’ that day, would I have the spirit to discern their hurt?
My own tears have purpose when they meet the tears of others.
Broken.
Altered.
Transformed.
{Do you have images that represent the hurt in your life? Share them in the comments or in our Flickr group.}
No. 1 — November 1st, 2011 at 7:58 pm
Shelbi, thank you for being so vulnerable and for sharing your story with us.
Can you give advice to women who are currently going through this as to how they can use photography in their journey to healing? Where do they start?
No. 2 — November 1st, 2011 at 8:16 pm
I know these feelings. This disconnect from reality. The numbing, survival mode of grief. And the questions, oh the questions! Your tears DO indeed have purpose, and it's such worship in your discovery of that truth–and how we are transformed through the pain. All. For. Purpose. {indeed!}
No. 3 — November 1st, 2011 at 8:59 pm
What a painful story. What a piercing photo. Thanks for sharing both.
No. 4 — November 1st, 2011 at 9:19 pm
WOW – what a powerful and painful story…it brings tears to my eyes. Thanks so much for sharing your story.
No. 5 — November 1st, 2011 at 10:29 pm
Powerful story, made more so by the simmering of 26 years. An excellent example of why it's important to give a story the time it needs and from that is distilled what is golden.
No. 6 — November 2nd, 2011 at 12:49 am
This prompt ties in beautifully with a series of photos I took recently. It's okay to be a charred wreck if Christ is there too. http://www.kareneeart.com/2011/11/broken-for-purp…
No. 7 — November 2nd, 2011 at 10:34 am
Thanks for this…
there is power in the telling of this story…
healing in the way photography can show us beauty in brokenness…
Sharing mine here.. http://lovepats.blogspot.com/
No. 8 — November 2nd, 2011 at 1:16 pm
Shelbi this is so lovely… I greatly appreciate the pictures that you have created with your words…
How gratifying to know that our brokenness is redeemed when we give it away to God.
No. 9 — November 2nd, 2011 at 6:42 pm
Beauty in the brokeness….only God! Thank you for sharing…
No. 10 — November 2nd, 2011 at 8:18 pm
Been there. Know that pain. Know the grace. Beautiful, Shelbi. Just beautiful.
No. 11 — November 2nd, 2011 at 8:26 pm
thank you for the kind comments :) it is a blessing to be broken when the sacrifice eventually reveals itself as a soul connection with others who have hurt too :)
No. 12 — November 2nd, 2011 at 8:38 pm
I resignate with such agony though I am working to figure out how to settle into a different kind of grief and how to live with what I have lost. Such This long parting, so disturbing. A sister younger than I… who chose to go. Who said, I can't do 'this' anymore. I share my sufferings here…..
http://pherophotographyandpoetry.blogspot.com/201…
No. 13 — November 3rd, 2011 at 12:49 am
wow, I loved reading your story, the raw emotion you write with, the imagery and the absolute vulnerability. I've written a lot about "broken-ness" lately on my own blog – childhood abuse, the loss of a newborn baby, the loss of a son, and it seems to be a theme that God keeps bringing back to me. In writing about it and thinking about it, I've realised that it is our stories of broken-ness that bring freedom, it is our vulnerability that brings healing – both to ourselves and to others. And so, in keeping with that, I loved how you ended your post – "Brokenness cannot remain in Him." and then "Had I not been ‘broken’ that day, would I have the spirit to discern their hurt?" You are a beautiful soul and a beautiful writer, and I am so happy that you have gone on to be a mother to 4. xxx
No. 14 — November 4th, 2011 at 8:49 am
I have selfishly prayed many times to be spared of the pain you speak of, as I have witnessed others suffer in this way. Thank you for your moving words and for meeting the tears of others.
No. 15 — November 6th, 2011 at 1:30 am
Beautiful and heart wrenching. Thank you for sharing these words from your heart.
No. 16 — November 6th, 2011 at 9:30 pm
great post.. I have in similar circumstances….and I have been broken for other reasons that left me less of a person… But GOd makes all brokenness whole.. beautifully written!
No. 17 — November 8th, 2011 at 4:25 pm
Oh Shelbi…pain so deep that only GOD can touch it. And when we let Him…as you have, He stirs our pain with the balm of Grace and there is healing for ourself and others. http://raiseyoureyes.dreamhosters.com/?p=294