Broken Angels

“The Most High is sovereign over the kingdoms of men…
Heaven rules.”
Daniel 4:17, 26 (NIV)

Every year at Christmas I loved seeing them. The “them” were three tiny angels that Bruce bought me on our honeymoon to Gatlinburg in 1975. As I carefully unwrapped each one for display, I remembered how excited I was when Bruce bought them for me. We had little money, but my new husband wanted me to have something by which to remember our trip.

The angels weren’t just reminders of our honeymoon- they were symbols for a time when everything was ahead of us- marriage, careers, children- a lifetime of hopes and dreams that lay just over the horizon. Twenty years of marriage and four children later, I got misty eyed as I put them out in the living room.

I returned to the kitchen to finish preparations for dinner. The phone rang and I answered it. I didn’t miss James Bruce until I heard the crash. As I raced through the house to find him, I couldn’t imagine what he’d broken- a lamp or picture perhaps. I was praying that he was all right- until I saw the angels. They lay in the floor- all three of them- shattered beyond recognition. I’m still not sure how James Bruce managed to break them so quickly or why he chose to do so.

At any rate, the pieces refused to be reunited, no matter how hard I tried. James Bruce stood there screaming, “Mommy! Mommy!” I told him to go get on his bed and not to move until I told him to. I was afraid to touch him for fear I would really hurt him if I did.

For once James Bruce quickly obeyed and went to his room.  I went about the task of cleaning up the pieces, but the more I cleaned, the more I sobbed. As I picked up each piece, I grieved for the broken pieces in my life- for all of the shattered hopes and dreams that were forever gone. For a “normal” little boy named James Bruce rather than an autistic son with intellectual disabilities and a broken brain; for a promising career that had been derailed by caring for a special needs child; for Bruce’s coaching career that seemed to be at a standstill; for everything.

I cried out to the Lord in desperation, anger and bitterness. “This is just like my life. It’s in pieces and You don’t even care. You allowed this to happen to us. It’s not fair, we don’t deserve it, we didn’t ask for it and it’s too much pain to bear.”

Still sobbing uncontrollably, I went to put the broken angel pieces in the kitchen garbage can. As I started down the hall, I heard James Bruce singing from his bed. The song’s words pierced my soul.

God is in control
We believe that His children will not be forsaken
God is in control
We will choose to remember and never be shaken
There is no power above or beside him we know
God is in control

Was it an accident that my eleven year old autistic son who had trouble retrieving information on demand, was quite clearly singing Twila Paris’ song God is in Control. at just that moment?

God IS in control. How I needed to hear those words! I needed to be reminded that there are no “accidents” in God’s sovereign will. He knows where I am, what I need, and when I need it. He will never forsake me and I can trust Him with all of my broken pieces.
What was true in 1995 in the middle of parenting an eleven year old special needs son is just as true in 2022 as we celebrate our first Christmas without James Bruce. God is sovereign and sufficient in both life and death. God not only reigns and rules, however, but He also comforts those who mourn and ”binds up the brokenhearted.” (Isaiah 61:1) He cares about our broken pieces and commands us to “gather up the broken pieces that nothing may be lost.” John 6:12

What broken pieces do you have that need to be gathered and given to God this Christmas?