{"id":1128,"date":"2019-02-12T23:37:18","date_gmt":"2019-02-13T04:37:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1128"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:07:08","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:07:08","slug":"broken-umbrellas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/broken-umbrellas\/","title":{"rendered":"Broken Umbrellas"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Broken Umbrellas<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Emma Broch Stuart<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It snowed the day of my grandson\u2019s funeral. Pure grace blanketing dirty mounds of earth.  Through my tears, my gaze fell on a sagging blue umbrella suspended over the head of a woman grieving our tiny loss with us. New tears sprang from within me, from depths I didn\u2019t know existed. Not from the loss of my precious one, but from this old umbrella, broken and twisted, yet hovering and flapping above this woman. It offered no protection at all from the wetness dropping from the sky, yet she clung to it. Broken and unsheltered. Could anything symbolize my heart\u2014and all humanity\u2014better than this crippled umbrella? And then she did something that tore me apart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She moved her brokenness in an attempt to protect the man beside her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We are all surrounded by brokenness, around us and inside us\u2014from divorce, from abuse, from loss. We try to relate and serve, to love and protect\u2026but how can we, when we ourselves are broken? We still end up exposed to life\u2019s storms. We still end up covered in snow. And we wonder why.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In this transparent and honest look into humanity\u2019s deepest hurts, hope for our relationships comes through the ultimate Relationship with the Lord. Join author Emma Broch Stuart as she travels that snowy road of pain toward the ultimate healing only God can offer.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Introduction<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

I take down a soup bowl from\nthe cupboard, scratch off the dried bits the dishwasher failed to remove, and\nset it at my place. The second bowl I pull down makes me laugh. Dried glue\nstill clings to the noticeable break line from where I <\/em>expertly repaired my favorite bowl.\nThe lime green one with mom\nwritten on the side. Of course the O is now lopsided. I place the crooked bowl\non the table and reach for another one. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Funny how I never noticed the\nbrokenness when setting the table for just myself. I need new dishes. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I need a new life. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I give myself a shake. No. I\nwill serve a meal with what I have and leave the rest up to God. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steam escapes the pot, and I\ngive the contents a quick stir. I sigh, imagining my readers\u2019 reaction to the\nmeal I\u2019m preparing for them. It\u2019s very fitting really. Soup in broken bowls,\nserved by a broken hostess. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Standing at the kitchen sink the other day, I wondered\nhow to do the research for a book on brokenness since I\u2019m not a schooled\ntheologian. I suddenly realized I\u2019ve lived<\/em>\nthe research, and that is theology. Theology, at its core, is simply knowing\nGod. So then, a theologian is simply someone who believes anything about God.[1]<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

 That by no\nmeans makes me an expert on brokenness, but with a past full of it, I have a\ngenuine understanding of the subject. Beth Moore, in her book So Long, Insecurity,<\/em> explains how God\nexposed every insecurity she had to make her a genuine writer on the subject.[2]<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Broken Umbrellas<\/em> is authentic. This I promise\nyou. Brokenness consumed me and defined me most of my life.\nEven though I now stand in victory, I admit I\u2019m not so eager to relive that\nbrokenness through the pages of this book. Finding the courage to be vulnerable\nwith you comes from God. If I relied on my own strength, Broken Umbrellas<\/em> would not exist. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At times I prefer to shut the\ndoor on my past and forge ahead with all the knowledge and wisdom I\u2019ve gleaned\nfrom God\u2019s healing. But God didn\u2019t bring me through this to keep the richness\nof His healing to myself. I must declare His glory. My testimony may help one\nperson find their healing\u2014or better yet, their Healer\u2014and that one life is\nworth being vulnerable.

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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[1]<\/a> Carolyn Custis James, When Life\nand Beliefs Collide <\/em>(Zondervan, 2001), 19.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[2]<\/a> Beth Moore, So Long, Insecurity:\nYou\u2019ve Been a Bad Friend to Us<\/em> (Tyndale, 2010), 342.<\/p>\n\n\n