I collect heart rocks. I have hundreds of them, all shapes, sizes and composition. I’ve surrounded myself with stony unbreakable hearts while my human one breaks so easily. I am beginning to think that God made it that way.
A cast for a broken arm, glue for a broken dish, a spring for a broken watch but what for a broken heart? No earthly thing. God made my heart deeply special and extraordinarily specific to me. My heart is attuned to only God and the spirit He made me to be. He alone knows the frequency at which He resounds in my heart and the code to open it for repairs.
That’s why, I believe, a heart is a lonely and bewildered thing without God. A hurting heart is a heart losing hope, one which longs for something to sweep in and change everything, to turn things right side up again.
God ultimately does. I turn to Him and tell Him my truth and He brings—or perhaps His angels do—the thing my heart needs, at the perfect time, in the perfect way. He delivers it to me, the perfect healing. I continue in faith, knowing that though I have seen loss, God loves me so much. He knows the disharmony in my spirit and comes to bring my heart back into resonance with Him and the life He gives me to live.
He heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3
Meeting God at the Park 