to turn the hearts 1 {again}

so there's this thing that consumes a bit of my heart,
something He placed there and i think of sharing,
i've begun to share it
but then i have gotten distracted and stopped.
so i'm really going to try this time,
to do this little series of posts and
share my heart.
i've already written two of them, but they were long ago,
most likely before you were reading here,
and so i will start with them..
this here is the first post,
originally from  2010,
and tomorrow (?) i'll post the second which
was originally from the beginning of 2011,
and after that i will {hopefully}
continue to post some new stuff on this topic
until i've shared this part of my heart and
maybe {just maybe} gotten some of you to think about it

to turn the hearts of the fathers-1

The horrendous musky smell...

How I despise hospitals...

the walls, once white, were now stained yellow.  The room filled with desperate people, somber and pale, no joy, no laughter, not even a light-hearted conversation.  Hospitals fill me with sadness, and the place I had to be this night, the emergency room, saddens me most of all.  In this room time stands still, in this room hope hovers, unspoken, as if to acknowledge hope would make it flee, in this room dreams die.

Those who are there for trivial reasons, like us, join in with the quiet, sullen mood as soon as they enter.  Talking seems taboo, smiling seems heartless.

I whisper prayers for each person there, smile at those I make eye contact with, breaking the unwritten rule.  Husband and I sit, holding hands, his minuscule injury not important, not even painful, but required by his employers to be examined.

TVs in the corners play the same news program, no one is watching.

She catches my eye.  Young mother, 19 or 20, so thin, so pale.  Her long, brown hair in a disheveled pony tail, her face filled with fear and a twinge of annoyance.  On her lap sits baby, 8 months old, my experienced mama self determines.  I can see sweat on his bright red face, as he cries his "I'm a baby and I don't know what's going on or why I feel like this" cry.  And I see this mama struggling.  She struggles to help her baby, to comfort, to calm him.  All alone.

Faded circular clock on the wall ticks slowly by.  You literally live each minute, watching the red hand move second to second.  It feels never ending, and you know you have been here forever, but there are so many more people who have been here longer than you... how long?  ten minutes? two hours?

Sick baby keeps crying, wailing his pain so we can all hear, and no one comes to help them.  It's not their turn yet.  Young mama holds him in her arms, trying so desperately to help him, and I see the pain on her own face... the pain of helplessness.  And I know that pain, I have felt it myself as a mama, but I have never felt it alone.

In my moments of helplessness I have cried, yelled, and questioned but I have known I am not alone.  Remembering the Comforter, the Prince of Peace, the One who takes our burdens upon Himself, I have had His promises to rely on.

28"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, 
and I will give you rest. 29 
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, 
for I am gentle and humble in heart, 
and you will find rest for your souls. 30
 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
Matthew 11: 28-30
And I watch her, and I see the pain, and it hurts to wonder what it would be like for me to feel the pain of helplessness, and feel it alone.  My throat is throbbing from want of crying, that which I am determined not to do.  And I can't open my mouth to whisper prayers for fear of sobbing, so my mind whispers them for me, and I pray for this mama and her baby.

I pray and I want to run over and hug her.  I want to rock her baby for her so she can rest.  I want to love them, and show this mama she is not alone.  I want...

finally they are called in, and I breathe deep as I watch her carry him through the big doors which slowly close behind them, and my prayers continue...

I think about this mama, I think about her helplessness, I think about her... alone.  

Can I share my heart with you?  It will take me awhile, maybe quite a few posts.  But I would like to tell you what has been breaking my heart lately, the need that I have seen, a way to reach out and be His hands...

If you will kindly bear with me, I will write more at a later date.  Please ponder this scripture, as it speaks what is on my heart...

He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, 
and the hearts of the children to their fathers
Malachi 4:6 


  1. Yes. It breaks my heart too. Glad you're writing through the heartbreak. At your pace, though, friend. You have littles who need their mama, and you're such a good one. Love you.

  2. Beautiful and yes there is much need outside of ourselves if we would only take the time to look.