Wouldn’t it be terrific to mend your hurting heart?
Today debuts the first of eight posts in the blog series, “Mending a Broken Heart.” My prayer is you’ll find hope and healing as we talk together about tough stuff like abuse and divorce and addiction and the death of loved ones. Please join me every Tuesday and Thursday for my ”Mending a Broken Heart” posts.
First. . .
How We Met, Why I Care
Kc and I crossed paths online and became fast friends. She sent me her memoir.
It’s fresh, this voice, this wise voice. Her Facebook photo belies the fact she grew up in the age of black-and-white photos and record players, her heart broken and searching for peace–physical, mental, and emotional.
Isn’t it reassuring to know you’re not alone in your pain? Having a fellow traveler helps, wouldn’t you agree?
Here’s a link to read more about A Broken Heart, even get your own copy. I highly recommend it. Four stars.
Who of us has not been broken?
Who of us has not cried out in desperation for relief? for hope?
Here’s a brief excerpt from “A Broken Heart.” You’ll meet the precious red-headed girl with the green tin suitcase, all grown up and running from an abuser. I added three application questions at the end.
Anthony was a tall Italian with curly, coal black hair–and a master’s degree. I’ve always admired people with college degrees. His degree could have been story telling. Fact or fiction, he wove spellbinding words together. We became lovers.
When Honeywell hired him to work in Colorado Springs, he, asked, “Would you consider moving with me?” On one knee he added, “Marry me.”
Head over heels in love, I moved with my two sons from Minot, North Dakota, to Teeter Tottter Circle in the shadow of Pikes Peak. Little did I realize our house on Teeter Totter would live up to its name. . ..
Sunny mornings and then dark nights played out like a movie of passion and deceit. I found bottles of whiskey stashed all over the house. Six months after the move, I became the sole bread winner. After a year, I had no illusions or hope that the situation would improve.
While my two sons were in school and Anthony on the golf course, I hired a moving truck. I took my stuff, the boys’ stuff, and left his stuff–including his wet bar. We went into hiding in a condo on the other side of town.
Thank you, Jesus, for finding me a refuge away from verbal and physical abuse. No stale booze odor in our home.
Two weeks later, our quiet was shattered. Anthony had followed one of my sons home from school. Knocking at the door, Anthony said, “I want a second chance. Why did you leave me? I love you. I’m sorry. Move back.”
“No!” I replied.
He grabbed me. My blouse tore. The boys and I fled to the safety of a motel. Days later, I called my neighbor. They told me Anthony left my condo escorted by the police.
Walking into my home, it was hard to comprehend the destruction: broken whiskey bottles on the floor; brown stains on the carpet; telephone ripped from the wall and used as a hammer; pieces of glass from broken picture frames shattered on my bed; dots of his blood spattered on the walls; plants overturned and left wilting, dying; jewelry ripped apart; treasured heirlooms gone.
“We called the police because of all the racket,” my neighbor said. . ..
A gnawing gut feeling told me: Call Uncle Gay and Aunt Lou in North Dakota. They were now in their golden years.
Hearing my voice, they started crying. They asked, “Are you all right? Anthony called and told us you were kidnapped and placed in a prostitution ring in Chicago.”
Kc was brought up in the church but did not have a personal relationship with Jesus until after her second divorce. She told the Lord in prayer, weeping and clutching her uncle’s Bible: “I’ve made such a mess of my life doing it my may. I forgot how much you love me. Forgive me.” God gave her the strength to pen a memoir and the hope to guide those who are hurting and without hope to the Mender of Broken Hearts.
Kc is married and lives in Washington State. She is the mother of two adult sons, one of whom died of cancer and is now with the Lord, and a grandmother.
A Few Questions
1. What warning signs early in their relationship signaled that Anthony may be abusive?
2. Name some pros and cons of leaving a man like Anthony?
3. Isn’t it reassuring to learn that God hates abuse? Why do you think he allows abuse to happen when he hates it?
Hope for You
My eyes are ever on the LORD, for only he will release my feet from the snare.
Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.
Relieve the troubles of my heart and free me from my anguish.
Guard my life and rescue me; do not let me be put to shame, for I take refuge in you. (Psalm 25:15-17, 20)
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Hope and Blessings,