“Breaking the mold” is an idiom that means to stop doing something the way it’s always been done. Molds take a long time to make and a longer time to break. My heart was molded to believe it was not worthy of love at a very young age, and it conformed to the limits of that mold for fifty-six years. It took a lot to break the grip that mold had on my heart, but God knew my heart and knew exactly how to go about breaking the mold without breaking my heart.
Labor Day has always been a turning point for me. I left my marriage of twenty-nine years on Labor Day 2002, and the holiday marked the beginning of a new school year for eighteen years of my life. It is fitting that God chose this weekend to show me that His Son’s precious love is the only thing powerful enough to break the mold holding my heart captive.
The changes this month have been hard on my heart. God knew it was time to break free of the mold on my heart, but I wasn’t prepared for the pain. He began chipping away at that mold the week mama died. He could have broken my heart’s mold with a single blow, but He knew that would damage my heart beyond repair. Instead, He shocked it awake and took it on a five-year journey that would let His Son’s precious love do what only it can.
Hindsight is crystal clear, so I see God’s plan now even though it made no sense to me at the time. He allowed me to experience love He knew would break the mold that encased my heart and free me to be who He created me to be. The breaking was more painful than anything I’ve ever known. I was as empty and exposed as I’ve ever been, but there was a beautiful difference this time. Fear was not part of the pain. For the first time, I wasn’t afraid. That was due, in part, to being numb and not caring what happened, but a bigger part was trusting God in a way I never had before. I had no choice, and that is usually when I listen and trust Him most.
Christ’s precious love grows quickly when given space, and that was the message God had for me this morning as I saw the roots of His love reaching down into the depths of my soul and the beautiful branches reaching up and out in a way that made me forget all about the broken mold out of which it was growing. I wish I had an image that captured His this morning, but I don’t. The little tree breaking through the concrete is where my heart is now, but I know with the Holy Spirit’s help, His love will be reaching down and out and up as the tree below.
Thank You God for breaking my brokenness and opening my heart as only You can.