My Heart is Not Broken Any More

It's Christmas Eve. Hallelujah! Time to focus on Jesus. Like every single day. No day is time to focus on me, but I had been. My heart was broken. The day that letter came and I had to come face to face with what my relationship with my parents really was and always had been.

God had been preparing me for that day for so long. First He sought me out and saved me. Then He gave me Ron to nurture me and help me know that people were honorable and faithful. Then slowly He helped me come face to face with my damage so that I was able to look the inevitable squarely in the eye - so that it wouldn't completely devastate me when I did.

What I realized in all of this is that God sustains. He allows you to get up in the morning and do your job no matter how crushing your insides feel. He allows you to put one foot in front of the other and walk from one place to the other. He allows you to smile and meet people even when you cry yourself to sleep at night. God is sufficient through all things even when your heart is broken.

This fall old passions began to return. I wanted to pull out crafting materials that had lain dormant and gotten dusty, I started to write again - not for lessons or web sites or school, but for me, to express myself as I'd not in ages. I got mad over injustices at school. I . . . well I'm doing all kinds of things that I haven't done in ages.

I'm not brokenhearted any more.

Migraines

I've had severe excruciating headaches for as long as I can remember. My dad must have had them too because I remember he took goodies or ate aspirin and he'd squint and rub his fingers or palm across his forehead.

To mother's credit, she did take me to the eye doctor a once when I was a girl to see if my vision was so terrible that might be the cause of them. When it wasn't, however, that was the end of that.

What it taught me was to carry pain in silence because we did not discuss things without a cause. Things without a cause were not real. And we all know what things that aren't real are *wink* *wink*

It was with such relief as an adult to finally be diagnosed. Well, I suppose relief is a funny word. I'd rather not have a chronic illness. But in reality, it's better to give it a name than not. It's better to research it and try remedies - both pharmaceutical and herbal. And again, I do owe a debt of being able to work, host, teach, converse, write through small, medium, intense pain.