Psalm 147:3 He heals the broken in heart, and binds up their wounds.
My life was in shambles. I stood in front of the little wooden church that had become my only place of peace, my head throbbing, my heart broken. My hands shook as I opened the door and saw the familiar face of Mike, my pastor and dear friend. His hug was so warm and loving, and I couldn't stop the tears that instantly sprung to my eyes and flowed down my face. I had no idea where my husband was, or what he was doing. I had no idea where my life was going, and I had no idea what to do next.
I had been out of the hospital for one month, and I had one day sober. Addiction had drove a wedge so deep between my husband and I that I didn't know if our relationship could ever be mended. It had taken us three years to build our life together, and a six month relapse to lose everything we had, including each other. I didn't have to say a word, Mike knew. He had seen the consequences of addiction over and over again in our tiny town. He knew me, the pain and heartache were written all over my face. He had known me since I was in diapers, helped raise me as a child.
I can't tell you what he preached that day, I was so buried in my own grief. I only remember at one point he stopped, put his hand on my shoulder, and said to me "Mend your broken heart." I cried the entire sermon. And when he called for those who had yet to be saved to come forward, my feet moved of their own accord. My broken heart pulled at an invisible thread like a marionette, dragging my feet down the aisle. In desperation I repeated the words he uttered, inviting Jesus into my heart and begging him to mend what addiction had stolen from me.
Please God, help me. I am so lost. I need you.
