from the depths of brokenness

It’s been months since I added anything to this string of journal entries. Often I’ve thought I would never return here. Often I’ve thought I would never be worthy enough to share anything I write – and in that context I was absolutely right. I’ll never be worthy of anything, lest by His grace and His grace alone. While times have been tremendously difficult since July the place where the answers lie has always been known. I would like to be able to say with a resounding and confident voice what I’ve gone through has been a character-building process, but that sounds like such a cliché and so shallow. It’s much harder to admit the truth - to talk openly of the three days I was so preoccupied with the thought of suicide that I was barely able to function in the real world.

From the depths of brokenness – my brokenness.

I would like to say I’m over the hump and I’ve got a better grip on life, but the truth is that as I sit here typing the tears of a broken heart slowly crawl from the corners of my eyes. I would like to say I’m stronger in my faith because of His unrelenting presence in all of this, yet I still have doubts, I still have unanswered questions, I somehow still find a way to disobey on a daily basis. I would like to say through this situation I’ve found my real self, yet to be quite honest I’m still not there. I would like to say I’m over the delusion that somehow this whole relationship thing will work out the way I would like for it to in the end, yet I still haven’t given up all hope – not yet anyway.

I would like to be able to write about how I’ve been able to put aside all of my hurt and pain and focus on helping others and serving God, yet that would be a lie. Now, more often than not I seem to pass up opportunity after opportunity to help out in projects of compassion I’ve loved being a part of for so long. I would love to say with a firm mind I’ve got this great vision as to what and how I’m supposed to live out my days, but the truth of the matter is I struggle with being faithful to God’s calling on my life today, much less tomorrow, or the next.

Don't get me wrong I would never compare my hurt from a senseless divorce to be equal to the losses others suffer, yet for me it’s just as real. Parents losing children, children losing parents, spouses and partners dying in the most untimely of circumstances - all much greater on the scale of finality, and I understand that but the pain is still very much real. Statistics tell us divorce happens so routinely in America that it shouldn’t be considered a surprise any longer. That it should merely be considered a realistic possibility when a couple gets married. As certain as death do us part is the notion that the legal process can just as easily separate husband from wife. Yet, who among us is qualified to say that the individual hurt isn’t just as real today as it was when the percentage of marriages ending in divorce was less than 50%. Who can say that the affect divorce is having on the moral soundness of our society shouldn’t be seen as the human tragedy that it is.

From the depths of brokenness. Not just mine, yet our nation as a whole.

It seems so much national attention is given to who should or should not be allowed to marry, yet little focus is on keeping together those that have been joined in the sight of God. We know that bankruptcy laws have been tightened in the past few years, yet all the while our divorce laws have been loosened. What does that say about what we as a nation consider sacred today? "and there shall your heart be also"...

I continue to move further and further from the depths of brokenness with each passing day. Sometimes it’s measured in small baby steps, yet I’m moving slowly but surely and that’s what’s important for me right now. To write about something less personal today would have been much easier for me yet you would've known I was being pretentious and hypocritical when this calling has been anything but. My confidence comes from a relationship with one that will never leave us nor forsake us - my precious Lord and Savior. For in the depths of brokenness I’ve survived solely on the nourishment of His love. His mercy really is enough!

I want to share with you excerpts from an article printed in The Plain Dealer newspaper from Ohio back in May of this year. (You can read the full article if you look up the archives section of their paper.) For whatever reason, I copied and filed it and then I stumbled across it again today. What can come from the depths of brokenness may not be easily seen in my situation, at least maybe not today – but in the story of Susan Cenkus it most certainly can. The final sentence in the article is a great reminder of an absolute truth for all of us. Whether it is with the healing of physical injuries, recovering from emotional trauma, or simply striving to live out our Christian walk – it's a lifelong process.


Mother returns to Tenn. waterfall where bear killed daughter

MOLLY KAVANAUGH, The Plain Dealer


CLEVELAND (AP) - Susan Cenkus always knew that someday she would return to the waterfall in the Tennessee mountains - the place where her heart broke apart.


This month, the mother from Clyde, Ohio, made the difficult journey back. It was a warm, sunny April afternoon, so much like the one almost two years ago to the day when she visited Benton Falls with her 6-year-old daughter, Elora, and 2-year-old son, Luke. On this afternoon, she was accompanied by her father; her 25-year-old son, Christopher; and Luke, now almost 5. Also with her were the men who tracked down the black bear that killed her daughter, seriously injured Luke and almost took her life.

Cenkus, her scars covered by a jacket and slacks, paused at the top of the 65-foot waterfall before heading down the rugged trail. At the bottom, forest workers would point out the spot where, bleeding and in pain, she called for help after the attack. They would show her where they found Elora's lifeless body and where the bear started its relentless attack by first grabbing her son. Then Cenkus and her father and two sons stepped away from the others, sat on a rock and bowed their heads in prayer. Cenkus' faith had brought her such a long way. A couple of weeks before Cenkus and her family headed to Tennessee in the spring of 2006, Elora told her mother, "I may go to heaven before you." Cenkus didn't think much about the comment. The two cuddled every night and said prayers together. God was as real to Elora as her mother. "We never know when it's our time to go to heaven," she told Elora. "I sure hope you live many more years than Mommy.


On that dreadful day Cenkus spotted a bear on a ridge about 100 feet away. She yelled to her children. It was time to leave. Within minutes, the bear raced down the hill, across the creek and attacked Luke, wrapping a giant paw over his skull. Cenkus yanked the boy from the animal's grip and stared into the 200-pound bear's eyes, praying it would back off. For a few seconds, it worked. But as she turned away to check on her children, the bear lunged at her, sinking its teeth into the back of her neck. "Save my children," she screamed to the nearby family. I'm going to die, she thought, as sharp teeth and long claws ripped at her arms and legs. She heard her bones crush.

The pain was excruciating. She asked God to make her unconscious. Then she blacked out. The emergency call came in about 4 p.m. from the other family who had been visiting the falls. Luke was airlifted to the hospital. Paramedics headed down to the waterfall, where they found Cenkus on the ground, bleeding but now conscious. She asked about her son and daughter. Paramedics then realized a second child had been with her and spread the word to rescue workers converging on the site. Cenkus was on her way to the hospital when rescuers spotted a bear in a thicket by a nearby stream. The bear reared up and growled and rescuers fired at it. The bear ran into the woods, leaving behind Elora's body. Paramedics took off their shirts and covered the little girl's body. Another rescuer stood guard in case the bear returned and tried to carry the body away.


A few weeks after being released from the hospital Cenkus returned to Clyde Church of God, where her father, Gene Paul Sr., is pastor and she is a worship leader. He surprised her by asking her to come forward to sing. "How am I going to do this?" she thought as she shuffled slowly up the aisle, her right arm bandaged and hanging limp. Her second thought was, "God will give me strength." She began singing, almost in a whisper, "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." With each stanza her voice grew stronger. The church members wept. "When the hard times come, you have to have a deep relationship with God," her father said.


"Everybody she comes into contact with, they are just amazed by her faith," said Richard Taylor, area coordinator of the Tennessee Emergency Management Agency and now a close friend of the family. "She inspires you to be better." In her new job as patient- and family-care coordinator at Stein Hospice in Sandusky, she has shared her journey with patients and families struggling to accept death. "I think probably going back to the falls was the largest major step I had to take to heal," she said. "That place is sacred to us because that's where Elora went to heaven." One thing she had struggled with was thinking about what happened to Elora after she passed out and wasn't able to help her daughter. "It is time to put that in the past," she said. Cenkus believes that healing is a lifelong process.


His love and grace are sufficent for all - doug