Let Yourself Break
In the hospital, I rocked my baby and considered the songs we would play at his funeral.
I didn’t know how to let the peace in. I hadn’t been in a stage of great Scripture consumption. I hadn’t been praying without ceasing, but the night we thought Titus was dying was the night I cracked. Part of me felt held with hands, and part of me was blown back in fear, as if God threatened to fill me like a roar of molten lava. Weak places are indeed a siphon for glory. I sat in a place I could hardly bear like a vessel cracking under pressure. Will I break? Can I contain this kind of pain? Can I let God have this child? Do I have a choice?
Then I heard the voice of peace, as if God had settled in the next room over. I knew he was there and experienced his comfort peripherally, but the inner realm, the intimate dimension made for dwelling in peace, was not an open place. I didn’t want to break. Fear sealed me from allowing such intimacy. Peace was a thing I believed in, just over in the glory land, like a gift I could open when I die, but maybe that’s the thing. Sometimes I fear the intimate trust too much to break. Maybe that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do; let yourself break. Let yourself be filled with peace.
Amber Haines, author of Wild in the Hollow, has 4 sons, theRunaMuck, and guitar-playing husband, Seth Haines. She’s an Alabama girl who’s found home in Arkansas. She loves the funky, the lyrical narrative, and the dirty South. She finds community among the broken.