Fall is teasing us with an early arrival here in Missouri, and I plan to enjoy it with my family this weekend. It is an unexpected gift to stand outside in a breeze unmarred by humidity. Healthwise it has not been a stellar week for me, so I’m working a bit more to focus on the goodness of the Lord and to soak in the ways that He shows His unchanging faithfulness to me. This morning that meant really fighting against a foggy mind and hunkering down in Psalm 135. It’s frustrating feeling trapped by brokenness–both physical and spiritual–but the Lord is the Mender of all that hurts, though sometimes the mending process is as painful as the initial breaking apart.
I’ve read a handful of things this week that speak to that very subject of breaking and mending, so I’m sharing them with you because that’s what friends do. And because my brain is a little tired today, as evidenced by the fact that I used a thesaurus to find a synonym for the phrase “right on” because that’s all I could come up with.
Karen Rutledge wrote a beautiful piece likening personal pain and brokenness to the Japanese method of repair called kintsugi. I found this to be both fascinating and completely apropos for the subject of mending. You will definitely want to read this.
Jaime Dishman wrote this post on knowing the Lord’s presence in brokenness, and I especially liked this line because I’ve learned it well in my own life: Every broken place I’ve not been able to keep together on my own has become a sacred mess where He’s restored my soul.
There’s good gospel truth in Brittany Salmon’s post on welcoming the forgiven “wounders” to the table. We’re all broken, but we all do the breaking part sometimes, too.
Swimming in the Deep End with God. You’ll be moved by this family’s story.
As a pastor’s wife, I enjoyed Megan Hill’s article at TGC: Bring Back the Church Prayer Meeting. I’ve experienced first hand that cycle of weeping and rejoicing with the same people because we’ve prayed together for years.
And now for an obscure movie recommendation that I’ve been wanting to share because I’ve been thinking about it all week and I’m most definitely going to rent this movie sometime this weekend. A college professor recommended The Spitfire Grill in one of my theology classes at Union University, and I remember I went to Blockbuster and rented the VHS immediately. Oh my gosh, can you remember going to Blockbuster on a Friday night and standing in line to rent a rectangle that you had to promise to rewind before bringing it back in two days? (Heaven forbid your VCR ate the tape. You were in for a world of hurt in the forms of shame and fines.) The overpriced popcorn, the $5 sodas, and the bin of used VHS tapes beckoned the impulse buyer to put down good money for a snowy, staticky version of “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” while waiting for the lady in front of you to dig her blue membership card out of the bottom of her purse. Those were the days.
The Spitfire Grill came out in 1996 (which I know without doing math is exactly 20 years ago because my husband graduated from high school that year and his big reunion is coming up soon. #old). It tells the story of a young woman named Percy who seeks refuge in a small town in Maine after being released from prison. I don’t want to give too much of the movie away, but it is a beautiful story of grace, redemption, and healing. I find myself humming There is a balm in Gilead when pain splinters its way into my heart, and that’s because of one very poignant scene in this movie. My disclaimer is that the film has a PG13 rating from 1996, and I can’t remember every element, but I do think the movie is worth watching for the themes of brokenness and mending. You can watch a trailer here; don’t be thrown off by how old the filming looks. We were doing the best we could in 1996, and I personally had only recently stopped tight-rolling my jeans when The Spitfire Grill hit the theaters. The perk of you seeing this movie 20 years later is that you can simply download it on Amazon rather than stand in line at Blockbuster, which you couldn’t do anyway because didn’t they go out of business?
As always, thanks for reading and sharing my posts! I hope you’re encouraged and blessed by some of these recommendations this weekend.
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.