Broken Hearts

Valentines is Over.

There were flowers in the office, big cards, sweet cards, candies--but I noticed that not everybody had them. There were some desks devoid of flowers or other signs of affection. I wonder if anyone else noticed.

Valentines makes us think of hearts-but there are also those with broken hearts. Those who do not receive valentine cards. Those who cry on Valentines Day.

I think of two good friends. Both are wonderful people-some of the best I have ever met. One is man who nursed his wife through death courageously and who even more courageously is raising his kids. He recently took a sabatical of three months to be with them. He still mourns for his wife.

The other is a wonderful woman who has been faithful to God and has just now gone through a painful divorce after many years of marriage. She has remained true to God and now is establishing herself in a new life. She has suffered.

Each one of these individuals loves God, is kind, and shows mercy to others. They are my heroes and my friends. And my ability to take away their pain is impossible. I can only pray for both of them. If only I could move the hands of God through my prayers. But he is God, I obey him-not Him obeying me.

So I think of broken hearts this one day after Valentines Day. I also think that sometimes the body heals much faster than the heart.

I also think of two verses.

The first is Psalms 52:17. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit. A broken and contrite heart you will not despise. This is my prayer.

Jacob wrestled with God and walked with a limp for the rest of his life. Some of us wrestle with circumstances and life and walk with a limp of the heart, a wounded heart, for the rest of our life.

Mary the Mother of Jesus was told that a sword would wound her heart. As she saw her son crucified, I can believe that she had a wounded heart.

Jesus has a wounded heart. A heart wounded for our sins. His heart bore more marks than his body did for us.

I believe that there is a company of those who have wounded hearts. But Jesus took our wounds that we might be healed. At least that is what Isaiah says about the Messiah. Our Messiah is not far away in heaven immune from our weaknesses and hurts. Instead He has experienced them. He identifies with us. He hurts. Buddha does not hurt-he feels no pain. Mohammed doesn't hurt. Jesus hurts, he knows our sorrows. His heart breaks with ours.

So those of us who have wounded hearts look to Jesus who also suffered grievous wounds. In the process we shall see healing; although for many of us that healing may not come overnight.

The second verse is Psalms 147:3: " He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds."

Brokerbelle's father received the purple heart for his severe wounds in the Pacific during World War II. If I could give out medals, I would give my two friends medals for their courage in the wars of life. They are good and innocent people, injured greatly as they went through life trying to do good. Unfortunately there medals for courage under fire in war-but not in life. I guess those medals must be awarded in heaven. But if I had them to give, I would give them to these two individuals.

I would also award one to my sister-in-law who saw her first husband die and now is burying her second after caring for him through a long illness. She too is a hero. It seems like courage is going on all about me. Brokerbelle gets a bushel of medals. So do some of my close friends.

But it was not given to me to give out awards or medals. But what little I can give, I give. So I give my admiration and these few meager words of written praise to those who are a part of the rag tag band of people with broken hearts.

HarleyDad