On Being Broken

I mentioned in a previous blog a recent hip replacement surgery. As part of my healing , I visit the physical therapists regularly. I have seen several different people. It has been very illuminating.

One person I saw did my initial assessment. She was very skilled, very knowledgeable and no doubt arrived at an accurate assessment of my physical issues and limitations, related as much to fifteen years of damage from rheumatoid arthritis, as from the replaced hip.

And all she could see in me was how broken I was, and that's all she wanted to talk about. Not me, not my spirit, not who I am and who I came here to be - only how broken I was. I left her presence feeling bad about myself, struggling with self-worth, and it took several days and conversations with loving and supportive friends before I could pull myself out of that abyss.

Then on a later occasion I saw Dennis. He was bursting with energy and enthusiasm. He, too, put me through my paces. There were things I was not able to do, but he brushed these aside and had me try all kinds of things I'd never done before. He could see in me, I think, my commitment to try anything, to grow, to get stronger. And I was able to do many new things! I was so surprised at how much more I could do. His attitude, his energy and support helped me to feel great about myself and about my progress. I did not feel at all broken in his presence. I left his office feeling hopeful, positive and full of renewed enthusiasm about the road ahead.

This is, I believe, the mark of a great healer.

We all have our broken places. And we live in a culture where we are all supposed to look good, have perfect families, dress perfectly, no inconvenient limps or disabilities to mar the presentation. And yet, we all have broken places.

Maybe it's emotional: struggles with recurrent depression, anxiety attacks, panic, recurrent trauma. Maybe it's physical: like the arthritis I have, like recurrent back issues, like chronic pain, like a run-in with cancer. Or maybe we are stuck in life issues: struggles with forming relationships, finding our right livelihood, dealing with profound family of origin issues. We are all broken. It is the nature of being human.

There's a great story Rachel Remen tells in her book Kitchen Table Wisdom. She is a therapist who works with people with chronic health issues. A young man comes to her with two stories: there is the before story where he is 17, a bright and promising high school student who is a gifted athlete, with a full scholarship to the college of his choice, a wonderful girlfriend and a great circle of friends. Then there is the after story: he developed an aggressive bone cancer in his right leg and lost that leg above the knee. The surgery saved his life, but also ended the life he knew. He lost his scholarship, his girlfriend and the life he had. When he comes to see Rachel, he is deeply angry and bitter.

She asks him to do a drawing of himself. He grabs a black crayon and draws a big black vase, and then puts in an ugly gaping open scar of a wound. He goes over the crack with the black crayon, over and over again, ripping the paper in his deep need to express this. This is how he sees himself: profoundly, permanently broken.

A few years pass and he continues to work with Rachel. Slowly he finds his way and as part of his healing, starts to work with other young adults who have had sudden, shocking losses like his. Near the end of his time with Rachel, she pulls out the old drawing he had made, and shows it to him. He looked at it for some time and said, "You know, it's really not finished." He takes a golden-yellow crayon and fills the black vase with golden light and shows how it is spilling out from the crack in the vase, filling up the paper. She watches, puzzled. And then he explains: he puts his finger on the crack and says softly, "This is where the light comes through".

When I first read this story, I broke down and cried and cried. It speaks so clearly of my own struggle to believe I was something bigger than simply a broken body, that I still had something to offer the world. Then and now, it gives me great hope.

This I believe: we are all broken and we have our large cracks. And yet, these broken places often are a place and an opportunity where the brilliant bright white light of our spirit shows through, lighting the path before us and enlightening the world.

Janet
Resources:
Kitchen Table Wisdom by Rachel Naomi Remen "The Container"