Jeanne

When her daddy
left
she was devastated.

She was
too young
and pregnant
and married
at 17.

Co-dependent
and
learning to cope
it
didn't
work.

She was
too young
and married
again
at 19.

Speed
and
drinking
taught
her how to
fight.

Co-dependent
and
searching for love
it didn't
work.

Again.
and again.
and again.

As an adult
she reconciled
with her
daddy and
begain to
understand
unconditional
Fatherly
love.

But
men and
boats and
meth and
pain
continued.

It
just
didn't
work.

Because she was leaning on the wrong person.
Her dependency on others wouldn't solve
anything.

Her dependency on finding love wouldn't solve
anything.

When she found the Savior -
she found the love that was
everything.

And the Savior pointed her to
the man who loved Him
before her.

Which is the ONLY
way it works.

By
pointing
to
the
Savior.

And now
TOGETHER
they are loving
by pointing to
Him
and not depending on
each other.

When she found her
Daddy
she found
herself.

Affirmation

"God doesn't waste a hurt."

The missionary
spoke of
Haiti.

The poor,
the destitute,
the homeless,
the lonely,
the fatherless.

The missionary
spoke of
them.

Living in
tents,
displaced from
the earthquake,
homes the size
of large
American
televisions.

The missionary
spoke from
them.

Their message:

The same God who brings
HEALING and
BEAUTY to the
broken of
Haiti

wants to bring
HEALING and
BEAUTY to the
broken of
America.

He is the same God.

There is no measure for
broken.

One
broken is not more
important
painful
than another.

Broken is broken.

And God wants to bring
HEALING and
BEAUTY
to the broken.

"God doesn't waste a hurt."

Dana

God called her to love babies.

But not just

    ANY

babies.

The unwanted babies.

         The unwanted children.

The babies who have been

beaten

    shaken

         and neglected.

 The children who have 

 eaten from trash cans

    and shrink from touch.

These unwanted

have     crawling hair

  and rough skin.

No one wants to touch them

or

   hug them

or

   cuddle them.

Theses children answer by   shrinking hiding running

                        scratching with fingernails

because

they

don't

comprehend understand know grasp

love.

Who would love the unwanted?

She was fearful, too.

But she answered when

God

called - with not just one baby.

THREE

        children...

Her heart skipped

    a beat.

But she said

YES. 

These children were

worthy

of love.

All children are

worthy

of love.

And it's hard.

Not to love

but to help them accept 

love

because

they  don't  know  how.

But she knows a wonderful

truth

about love.

God loves the

unwanted.

We are ALL unwanted.

We are ALL in need of Him.

He wants us.

He loves us.

And His love uses

her willingness

To mend precious

broken

babies children adults 

They are all beautiful.

Please visit Dana's blog:   http://momof3darlings.wordpress.com/

Kylla

She is a raging river.

Wild.

The river brings
passion fervor bravery.
She saves thousands
seeks justice for
those who have not.

Those who are taken
Who have no advantage.
The helpless.
The young.
The women.
The trafficked.

She understands
and has experienced
being torn
no advantage
being taken
feeling helpless.

Passion pushes her
as she rages on
but this river lends itself to
rebellion
and
walking
away
from
the river's Creator.

She creates her
own
path.

So He
being
Him
watches her
crash bump bruise battle
with
Tearing pain
Fierce wind
Swirling current

and wants to
ride with her
if she would
only

only

only

allow Him.

He wants to direct
(siphon)
the river
And point out the
Beauty
as she reels out of control.

He wants to hold her in the
Frantic frailty of life.

This raging river
must be
bridged
by a Savior.

She
Must
Surrender.

And when she
surrenders
she sees the joy
in the pain
the calm
after the storm

Surrender brings
New dreams
New joys
New focus
New life

Godly justice
for the have nots.
His purpose
not her plan.

Her river soul
is glassy smooth
and full of
Him.

There is a
gentle promise
in both
calm and dangerous
waters
when
She surrenders.

He guides her journey.

Jessica

She wasn't mad at God.
She lost three babies.
She saw them die.
But she wasn't mad.

She felt
            DECEIVED.

She built a giant wall and only let God
get this                           close.

Inside the wall was
insulation.
A faux protection from anything
bad
He might allow.

She had a baby.
A boy.
She held him sotightshecouldhardlytakea

Breath.

The boy didn't belong to her.
She knew he belonged to
God.
But her heart
GRIPPED HIM TIGHTLY
so she wouldn't lose him.

Then more pain.
Unexpected
ripping
pain.

A relationship she depended on...
fell through her fingers
like
air.

But she was challenged to forgive.
FOR ALL OF IT?
FORGIVE?
Pry open her clenched fist?
The grip she held so
tightly?
                              FORGIVE?
Reconcile her past?
Her babies?
Her family?
Her marriage?
Her relationships?
                              FORGIVE?

But when she did decide
to give Him back her
life  heart  marriage  kids 
and
more
pain.

She invited Him in
not to change what happened
but to change her response
to grace
to love
to trust.

When her miracle was born she
KNEW
the Holy Spirit
had
saved
her
miracle
baby.

He was closer than ever.
He always had been
waiting
waiting
waiting
for her.

She felt Him.
Not because her miracle situation was
perfect
or easy
or happy.

But because she invited Him.

She lifted her hands from her miracle
her palms out
holding her miracle up to Him
offering each breath.

He loves her more than she does.

Her clenched fist didn't control.
It kept Him out.
Her insulated wall didn't protect.
It kept Him from wiping her tears,
comforting her pain.

It isn't okay.
But it's His.
And it's better to be His
than okay.

She knows that now.
He will make something of her
terrible
beautiful
life.



Jessica also knows (in her words):

•life is a miraculous gift, whether it is shortly after conception, 11 1/2 hours, 36 hours, 8 years of wild boyness or 10 weeks of struggling fragility... I will love deeply
•there is much I cannot control. What I can is how I respond. Respond with love and graciousness. 
•always be open to what God is doing. If he is trying to teach me, I wanna be ready to learn, if he wants to use me, I wanna be available. What he leads me through will not be for nothing. I'm gonna let him make something of my terrible beautiful life

Diana

Good enough.
That's what she always
always
always
longed to be.

But things become
ugly
and
unmanageable
when we center on

ME ME ME ME ME.

Her failed attempts at
GOOD ENOUGH =
Plenty.

Striving to achieve
Begging for love
Dying to forget
Unable to fit

She turned to
any and all
that would dull
the forever nagging:

You
Aren't
Good
Enough.

She was taught to be
silent
about her rips/holes/tears
of the heart.

"We don't speak of
SUCH
things here."

We don't speak of
unwanted babies
grabbing the needle
inhaling the powder
swallowing the poison.

We don't speak of
reaching for acceptance
ignoring the danger
seeking love in horrid places
forgetting our self worth.

We don't speak.
We mask.
So she masked to
forget forget forget.

Then she found them.
Well, they found her.
The SPEAKERS.

The unmasked
few who were/are becoming
Many.

The Many who speak because
they know their sins aren't
MASKED but
WASHED
by a Savior.

To
speak
is to bring Him
Glory.

To bring Him
Glory
brings
beauty forth
from the
shattered shards of their
broken lives.

They invited her in.
She began to
SPEAK.

They invited her to lead.
She continued to
SPEAK.

She fell on her face.
And instead of hiding she
SPOKE.

Because speaking
and being spoken to
about what she masked
created the bridge
of

"I've been there."

Each misstep
she spoke.

And He
received ultimate
Glory.

There is only
shame in
silence.

And so she speaks.

And so should you.



Diana's Prayer:

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. Ephesians 5: 8-11

Gina

Hate.
The feeling that comes when
EVERYTHING
       she worked for
       she believed in
       she trusted in
       she planned around
                                                         IS GONE.

There is no
rhyme
no
reason.

It doesn't make sense.

Humanly - she can't see the reason for it.
Humanly - she can't the good that can come from it.
Humanly - all she feels is hate.

So she
                          YELLS and
                          CRIES  and
                          RAGES and
                          THROWS...

and falls to her knees.
Presses her forehead to the floor in
DESPAIR.

Then repreats the entire process.
AGAINANDAGAINANDAGAINANDAGAIN.
This lasts hours and days and months...
the weeping, the wordless moans.

BUT

You never left.
You took all the
                           YELLS and
                           CRIES and
                           RAGES and
                           THROWS...

all the feelings words thoughts

and
collected
every
one

so nothing was left to poison her.

Until all that was left -
were
two.

But mostly
YOU.

All
YOU.

Love.
The feeling that comes when she realizes
                          You are everything you've been
                          You always WILL BE
Everything
                           You've worked in
                           believed in her
                           entrusted to her
                           planned around her

Through YOU,
she will
keep growing
living
breathing

You have a plan.
You will never leave.
You will never forsake.

There is beauty.
When You've gathered all the poison
out of the broken.

Just because you love her.
You love her.
You love her.
You love her.

Shahla

Hers was a
terrifying childhood.

There were monsters lurking
in corners
in garages
in neighborhoods
at her front door.

NO CHILD
SHOULD EVER
EXPERIENCE
THIS.

And she didn't tell.

She wrapped her secrets tightly
in the darkest corners of her heart
and bore the pain by herself.

She kept hoping
for stability
acceptance
love
a daddy

She hoped.

Maybe marriage?
Maybe babies?
Maybe this would fix it?
The dark corners of pain?

Then she made the worst choice.

Betrayal.

NO ONE
SHOULD EVER
CHOOSE
THIS.

And it didn't alleviate her pain.
It gave her
GUILT.

And the stripping
continued
as she was
overwhelmed
with
broken relationships
and broken people
and broken children
and

she was broken.
And she was trying to take care
of all the broken around her.

NO ONE
SHOULD HAVE
TO EXPERIENCE
THIS PAIN.

She was so alone.

Then she found them.
People who existed all along.
More broken people.

But they SPOKE
of their brokenness.
They SHARED
their brokenness.

They didn't HIDE
their brokenness
behind a mask
or in the darkest corners.

And her brokennness counted.
She wasn't alone.
The healing began.

These people knew the Man who was
BROKEN
so their brokenness could be healed.

They pointed to the broken and bleeding man
and they held her to
SPEAKING
her brokenness.

They embraced her
Just where she was.
They embraced her with the
ARMS
of a Savior.

Her healing began.
Her marriage
Her children
Her relationships

And Jesus crawled into the darkest corner of her heart.
He reminded her
He showed her
That He had never left her.
He was always there.
Even when the monsters hurt her.

And He would always be there.
Her beloved.
Her Savior.
Her Daddy.

The Lover of her Soul.

Her everything.



Shahla's prayer:

“The Lord did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples.  But it was because the Lord loved you and kept the oath he swore to your ancestors that he brought you out with a mighty hand and redeemed you from the land of slavery...  Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.” Deuteronomy 7:7—9

Rebecca

She married her high school sweetheart.
Billy Graham helped her find the Savior.

They
            followed
                              Jesus
and left home.

He preached the word.
She taught the word.
She sang the word.
They followed Jesus miles from home.

And she read the books of the faithful.
She read their stories and learned of their
righteousness.
She was awestruck by their faith, trust,
even in brokenness.
Even in the darkest hour.
She saw the righteous suffer.
There was pain and difficulty and disease.
But they gave Him praise.

And then it was their turn.
Her foundation shook.


She told God she didn't like this story.
This wasn't her book.
There was too much pain.
She watched her sweetheart suffer.
It wasn't fair.
This story seemed wrong.
It didn't make sense.

WHY WASN'T THE STORY DIFFERENT?
They gave up their lives!
They moved miles away!
They sacrificed their hearts!

They had followed Jesus.
And all was being stripped away.
Her earthly comforter...
Gone.

Then Jesus pulled her close.
Through miracles
man could never orchestrate
He whispered to her softly

"I'm writing your story. It's mine."

And she knew.
She laid her sweetheart in the ground.
She gave him back to Jesus.
She let Him write her story.

And her story
was read by
many others
who needed
to see

that all books are written
to the
GLORY
of the author.

We may not understand
why
but we understand
WHO.


Rebecca's prayer:

….looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross….Heb. 12.2

Hannah

He threw me the softball.
He held me tight.
He threw me in the air.

He left me alone.

The earth gives us Fathers.
Mine was all I could fit in my heart.

His prison cell was my reason.

My reason to hate, to blame, to run, to dive into the arms of others.
My reason to dance with dangerous desires.
My answer for addiction.
My excuse for everything.

It was his fault I was broken.

Everything I did
I did because.
Because.
Because he left.

And the hole in my heart was raw.
Nerve endings and blood and vessels and pain.

Until Abba.
My only heart-filling is from Abba.
I cannot run from Him.

He doesn't leave.

I can try to ignore, to blame, to seek.
But He knows me.
I fall on my face before Him.
I find Him in my prayer closet and cry out.

This broken mess of me belongs to Him.


And the beauty that remains is only He that remains in me.

Paula

As a girl she was taught
(as many are)
her worth and acceptance
were found in the layers and lace she wore on Sundays.

It wasn't okay to be real.

Her brother's heart was lost in substance -
Her parents lost in his problems.

She was alone.

Demands, dominance, control, criticism
Kept her in a corner.
She found herself by fixing them.

She TRIED
                 and TRIED
                                    and TRIED
And lost herself, too.

She searched for the safety.
The fake safety of losing herself in others.
The fake safety of becoming their shadow,
                                               their mirror,
                                               their puppet.
But it was only that: FAKE

She was broken by them.
She was broken intimately and physically,
She was broken, taken, and ripped open.

She swirled in a windstorm of repetition...
                      Choosing men
                      Choosing drink
                      Choosing the darkness
                      NOT choosing the hurt, the hit, the harm.
                      NOT choosing the loss, the loneliness, the lifelessness.
Until the bottom fell out and she couldn't bury herself anymore.

There was no one to fake.


Instead of escaping to the safety of the fake, the empty, the desolate,
she RAN.

She ran to the One who took her broken and wrappped it in His arms.
His gentle hands cupped her face and showed her the need she had for
Him.
She could pour herself out to Him.
And He could finally fill her.

No appearance.
No dominance.
No control.
No criticism.

Only trust in Him. The One.
The truest Lover.
Desires for darkness:

ERASED.

Hunger for His goodness flowing.

Gifts given -

Restoration
True Love
The path of forgiveness
The grace of the Cross bearer

The beauty of her brokenness - ALL GUILT GONE.



Paula's Prayer:

Psalm 32:1-5. The New Living Translation

Oh, what joy for those whose rebellion is forgiven, whose sin is put out of sight!

Yes, what joy for those whose record the Lord has cleared of sin, whose lives are lived in complete honesty!

Lauren

She covered her ears.
They were screaming.
                  Still screaming.
                       She begged them to stop.
Where was love?

She covered her face.
They were laughing.
Those girls were endlessly
                    Laughing.
                           She silently pleaded that they stop.
Where was a friend?


She uncovered her heart.
She hoped he would cradle it.
He would take care of it.
             And him.            Or him.           Or maybe him.
But they tore pieces and took them.
                            She pretended not to notice.
Where was her beloved?


She buried herself.
In the party.
In the ziplock bag.
In the pain pills.
She was desperately
                       silently - screaming.
Where was her help?


The little girl found a great God.
He followed her through the laughter.
He held her after each betrayal.
He dug her from her grave.

And then, when her eyes lifte, she saw Him.
She gave Him her broken beauty -
And He held it as His treasured prize.


She is His beloved,
              and He is hers.



Lauren's prayer:

PSALMS 25: 4-7

“Show me you ways, O LORD, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.  Remember, O LORD, your great mercy and love, for they are from of old.  Remember me NOT in my rebellious ways; according to your love remember me, for you are GOOD, O LORD.”

Purpose

I am broken.

We are all broken.

I am going to heart-share the stories of the broken –

the paths the broken have taken to beauty.

Their stories do not belong to me.

They belong to the Savior.

Sharing our brokenness gives testimony to His greatness.

His refinement.

His knowledge of all things working together for good.

His wild ability to soothe us in the firestorm.

I am thankful for these stories.

For the sweet sisters who tore their hearts and gave them to me.

Our prayer is the beauty shines through the broken to grant Him glory.

We give You the glory, Father of our stories.

From the broken to the Only Beauty.

The only One who remains steadfast in the seeming silence.

The Jesus of hope

The Spirit of truth

The God of eternity.

We give our stories to You.

Amen.

Truth

Being broken is beautiful.
Broken keeps me on my knees.
The refining fire sears through brokenness and makes me new.
The beauty of broken is total dependence on the Creator.

A broken people have broken stories.
Broken binds us together - common is found in the broken.
Broken need not be hidden...
...because when we are open and broken the Spirit flows free.

It is a broken beauty.