Every doll I ever had as a kid ended up looking like a tortured war victim. First came the obligatory bath, followed by the hair brushing and/or haircut. When the hair was sufficiently bushy and uncontrollable or completely whacked off, out came the ball point pen to draw on blue lipstick or earrings or a necklace and bracelet.
All the cute clothes she'd had when she was new--gone. I don't know where. They were just gone. The end result was always totally and completely ugly.
Mud fence ugly.
Yes, it was that bad. Always. With no exceptions.
My poor doll--the one that had been cherished and tenderly looked after only months before--was then summarily relegated to the bottom of the toy box never to be thought of or seen again until some future cleaning day when she would be discarded forever. There was no other way out.
Cold, huh? Heartless, right? You betcha.
Like my pitiful broken dolls, it happens all the time in the real world, too. Real live human beings beaten down by others, or circumstances or their own choices and they don't have the strength within themselves to get up. They don't have it within them to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and try one more time to get off those pills or the booze. There is no energy or resolve to try one more time to get off the street and into a regular home where they can live safely without the fear of being robbed, beaten or worse.
I know many broken people. Some are family. Some are people I see as I drive through town. Some beg for money. Some sit there dejected and sad. Some busy themselves with shopping carts filled with their stuff. Their whole lives crammed into a metal basket on wheels.
Sometimes the brokenness is inward. Fear grips. Personal lives are a mess. Relationships have soured so badly it doesn't seem like they can ever be sweet again. Finances are such that it will be only days before choices are which bill to put a little money on or whether to eat or buy medicine. Hope is thready and thin. There seems to be no where to turn. It's the bottom of the toy box.
Micah 7:1
What misery is mine! I feel like the fruit picker after the harvest who can find nothing to eat. Not a cluster of grapes or a single fig can be found to satisfy my hunger.
Nothing on earth satisfies this gut hunger. This hunger for a real life, for peace of mind and heart doesn't begin and end with an 8-5 job. These dear, broken ones' misery is so all encompassing it seems as though there is no end. This misery isn't only of physical need. This misery and emptiness is caused by the absence of Jesus. He is the fixer of broken people. Regardless of why or how a person gets there, the Lord helps all those who call on Him.
Psalms 40:1-2
I waited patiently for the LORD to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. 2 He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.
Do you know any frightened, broken ones? Are you broken outwardly or is your brokenness hidden? The Lord will help you. He will make you whole. Call on Him.
We can trust Him. He promised.
Suz
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