broken bones



My mom and dad are in the process of selling their house.  My dad is notorious for trying to sneak things into the car as you pull away from their house.  On a few occasions, he has even had the audacity to give away things of mine without my permission. Humph, working on forgiving him for that.  On the other hand, I would call my mom the “sentimental type”.


My dad has been sending me home with small boxes for about the last year and a half. This man is on a mission to de-clutter.


He has snuck some treasures into those boxes.  He doesn’t talk much about his time in the army, but I’ll tell you what, the man learned to pack during his time of service!  It’s some type of Guinness’ world record the amount of stuff he can fit into a small box.


As a result of my father, Mr. De-clutter, and my mother, Sentimental Sharon, I’ve made it back to California with some real treasures as of late.  Seriously, I am talking teeth in envelopes!  Have I mentioned I am the baby of four children?


There may not be many pictures of me.  (It’s more like oh there’s Anna back there in her baby swing in the background.)  A few years back, I couldn’t find my baby album, then I discovered my baby pictures gently shoved into the front of my sisters. My dad compassionately made me a baby album, before my next visit home.

Hey what’s wrong with making a baby album 25 years later?


And don’t you wish you were a fly on the wall when the tree farmer made me a baby album?


I sound bitter, but really I am not.  They loved me fiercely, and most of this is just joking.  My mom was probably trying to hold me just a little longer rather than peeling back the sticky papers of a baby album.


We did a lot of snuggling, and that is worth more than a thousand “baby albums” to me. I logged a lot of hours on the back swing with my dad that he still owns to this day.

{This was us on that swing on my wedding day.}



So, besides the envelopes with hair and teeth, my dad snuck in my cast from when I broke my foot when I was one year old.   {Compassionate people insert you, “ah” here.}


It’s a little pink cast that was in my mom’s nightstand as long as I can remember.  My sweet older brother was carrying me down the stairs after my nap one day, and he missed a step.  You know what happened next.   Little Anna who had just learned how to walk broke all four bones on the top of her little baby foot.


More than a sad story, the cast reminds me that broken things can heal.  I have no long-term effects or even memories of breaking my foot. I am sure I cried crocodile tears and maybe even screamed. They took me to the doctor, and he put that cast on so that my foot would heal.


I am reminded of this verse in Psalm 34, “The righteous person may have many troubles, but the LORD delivers him from them all”.  There is no situation beyond His redemption.  There is no brokenness, sickness, or pain beyond His reach. He is the Healer.


One touch from Him changes everything.


It is not self-effort that brings healing.  I couldn’t just “walk-off” my broken foot.  I needed to see the physician.  The same goes for us when we experience brokenness.  The longer we hide, the more we push Him away.  He is our solution.  He longs to be close to the broken.  He longs to make all things new.   He longs to make us whole.


Don’t be like Adam and Eve and try to hide from the Creator.  Don’t let shame hold you back for the healing that is in His eyes.


Be real with Him, He can handle it.  I promise.

2 thoughts on “broken bones”

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