A Dream Broken ~

We sat, parked, listening to the rush of the river in the black of the night. Not park-ing as some would suppose, just sitting, listening, wondering. Finally he spoke. His words were direct, focused. “I’ve been thinking. We could be married in another year ... I’ll only have two years left of school. You would have to work.” A little thrill rose from the tips of my toes spreading upward to the top of my head. We’d been dating for 3 years ... since I was 16 and he 17. A romantic he wasn’t, but honest and true.

Wedding vows were spoken in the autumn of the year with one gone by. The leaves were changing, our hopes and dreams were colorful and bright. We walked, hand in hand, through those last two years of college. There was little money for gas. Long hours were spent at the lab, him studying, me working, money so tight that we sold a used textbook to buy a loaf of bread only to realize it was just enough to cover the price of two tickets to the movie, so we fed our souls instead.

With college graduation came new dreams, new goals. The summer was spent apart from one another with him working one place, me another. And a new portion of the dream grew in my womb, tethered with love before his departure.

More vows spoken ... another leaving. He would serve Uncle Sam in the USAF for the next four years. These were the years of ‘Nam ... of loss of friends .... of uncertainty. As it turned out, I became the injured through the war on the highway. The war of youth wanting to rush through life and hurting others in the process. He was only 18, the young man that struck us almost head on. His life just beginning ... mine now changed forever. Ending in ways I didn’t realize.

A beautiful piece of the dream was birthed six months later. Birthed in the form of a healthy baby boy. A father beaming with pride, a mother filled with gratitude ... two hearts overflowing with love. And fear. Now 22, and 23. Old beyond our years in such a short time.

The dream took on the appearance of “normal,” whatever normal is. The daily walking out, only in circumstances far beyond our control. There was no accounting for the grace that covered those days. But the presence of the Lord grew. The hunger to know Him bringing us closer together ... to Him.

Days turned into years. The dream began a slow fade. Major chips began to take their toll. Too many losses. Too many griefs. We struggled ... hard.

One moment what was a dream morphs into a nightmare and catches you unaware. Leaves you broken, wondering, listening, the rush of the river carrying you where you didn’t want to go.

The rush of the river, the black stillness ... and you’re alone, sitting.

Broken.

~ ~ ~

He heals the broken in heart and binds up their wounds.

Psalm 147:3

photo by Joanne Norton

 This is a late link to the blog carnival on brokenness

hosted by

Bridget Chumbley