Her Little Rended Heart

Rend your heart.  These three words from the Book of Joel draw me deep this morning.  Rend is not a word we use now.  It means to tear into two pieces, like the curtain of the temple splitting supernaturally, so that the barrier meant to separate, now falls away and we step with awe into the holy of holies. 

It's how I stepped into my daughter's heart the other night, when she came home rended and trying bravely to hold back the tears.  I quickly surmised her evening had not gone well when she shed her coat and lunged into my arms.  I felt my own throat catch with her pain. 

But the blessing that accompanied her rended heart was that I could cross the threshold, her little holy of holies, and hasten the healing, whisper words of truth in her ear, hold her close.  It came quicker than I expected, the healing.  I could see it in her eyes as she turned up her sweet little face and gazed gratefully at me.  I could hear it in the words that began to flow from her..."Maybe next time, Mommy." 

She told me that when she was sitting in the middle of the disappointment, she remembered a poem she had read, about how to find one, good thing, when everything is going bad.  She said, "I thought about how I had made a basket at my basketball game on Saturday, and it made me feel better." That's right, girl, you are learning "eucharisteo," the hard thanks.  

Tomorrow is the beginning of Lent, the season of fasting and reflection before Easter.  It's a time to rend my own heart, or allow it to be torn, broken, spilled out for my Savior, who did the same for me.  How do I do this?  I think about my heaping pile of sin.  I count my flaws and repent for all of us who turn our own way and twist every good gift from above into an idol.  Yeah, it's no fun.  I'd rather watch TV and eat ice cream.  But the sweets will go for Lent and the bitter taste will settle in for awhile.  And healing will come.  And Easter morning will be GLORIOUS!