We were on our way to my parents’ place when Sabrina, at 2 years old and barely putting sentences together exclaimed, “We’re close to Grandma’s house!”
Surprised by her recognition of where we were, I said, “Wow Sabrina, you know where we are!”
The development was new and many homes were still open frames so she replied with, “Yeah, I see broken houses.”
I never wrote it down, but I never forgot. Broken houses meant we were close to Grandma’s house.
While actively in the process of refreshing the siding and paint on our house, we’re praying for a broken “house” right now. That’s hard to type out, and took a while to dare to pray. It’s been quiet on my blog as I have waited for the courage to post such a thing. It’s scary, but only when we forget what happens when hearts break. We don’t know what we’re asking for, but at the same time we do–to feel the nearness of God and to be transformed by the renewing of our minds.
When brokenness, stemming from God’s kindness brings you closer, more surrendered to a different kind of wind in your rafters, you know you’re close to that new place of comfort, and you want more.
If you’ve experienced brokenness and found yourself closer to God’s heart, would you pray for us as we pray to be broken where we’re formed improperly, we understand wrongly, and love misguidedly?
Maybe you’re in a season of blowing, cold wind. Can I pray for you? Will you ask for His nearness and comfort? Ask Him to show you that, stripped of false comforts, you are a vessel for the God of all creation to come near to?
If you would like me to pray for you, leave a comment below or email a message. It’s no small thing to pray upside down–for brokenness that leads to wholeness. But if getting down to the planks is where God is near, would you take the risk? Is it really upside down when something like soup tastes better on a cold winter’s eve, and a blanket comforts when we feel the chill? The mundane things of life like half-built houses and the misunderstanding of two-year-olds can have profound messages. Don’t you think?