The Broadway Sisterhood

This long island is cold and barren. The leaveless trees of winter exposing the frenzied tangle of branches otherwise hidden in the lushness of summer. The intermittence of parched looking pines, stand neglected and forlorn against the greyness of the overcast chill of the day. The land is snow covered with stiff impenetrable patches of white. The formation of my first snowball thwarted by it’s solidity as the snow is even breach resistant to my weight.

Yet, somehow, the cold, crisp air breathes life into me. The waves of the Long Island Sound pulling from me the overcast dull from my soul, breathing vigor into my very bones; setting me on the path of the healing that comes from being thoroughly embraced by my Sisterhood.

Hello, Broadway. Here we come come

The Scent of Water

Spring’s Renewal: The Awakening Abundance

“For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again..through the scent of water it will bud.”. Job 14:7

I love the desert in Spring with its many different textures of green and bright dots of color. The sprinklings of yellow and purple with surprises of orange scattered among the delicate velvet of the cattail grass. The light green, almost white, of the prickly thinness of the aloe vera is nearly eclipsed, in turn, by the cottony explosions of red branched, white leaved softness. A flourishing Palo Verde tree sprouts randomly in the midst, like an English Governess tending her charges, arms outstretched, welcoming and watchful. I turn with delight to see my contrasting red furred pups frolicking excitedly as they bound and pop amidst the joy of this familiar yet reimagined landscape.

The earthy sweetness rises up to greet the fresh washed smell of the desert as it embraces me. I breathe in the scent of this water and am touched to awe by the promise of the awakening abundance to come.

“She said something about sailing out on living water. It was herself that she meant.” Scent of Water by E. Goudge

My journey these past few months since my motorcycle accident have been rich in trepidity and truth realized and repeated. Random, parallel sources have influenced my path, informing my fear and eventually leading me out to this side of healing.

I share them here in a sort of journey of four parts.

Some parts are redundant as my fear was fed from different stimuli and needed

the repeated breath of God to penetrate its layers.

Welcome to my

Stages of an Accidental Injury.

The Stages of an Accidental Injury

A Journey in four parts:

Stage one: Broken but not bruised

October’s Optimism: It’s okay. I’m strong I can do this.

Stage Two: Fractured within

November’s Acuity: The Dark Side of Healing

Stage Three: Still Fractured. Still Afraid.

December’s Distance: The Many Layers of Fear and Faith

Stage Four: The Scent of Water

Spring’s Renewal: The Awakening Abundance

By Anne Braudt

Fall, 2018

The Stages of an Accidental Injury

Stage One: October’s optimism: Broken but not Bruised

On the Wings of the King

As the princess and her prince donned their mighty, trusty steed, they rode into the sunset. The cool, fragrant October air surrounded her as surely as her hands surrounded her beloved. It was an ideal Fall day for a ride and so, without a care, she hugged her prince and enjoyed their time away.

It was not long before a stop was required to allow the crossing of the ways. They stopped happily but before they could begin again an unexpected attack came from the rear. It came swiftly and fiercely without a warning as it catapulted the princess from her perch. Into the air she flew until caught by the wings of the King Who softened her flight and her landing. As He kissed her cheek, she opened her eyes to see her prince scooping her up to safety. An off duty white knight happened by and sat and sang songs of his youth as he waited with her for the kingdom’s resources to arrive.

Days later, as the princess considered the pain of her plight. Her texting foe’s spurious attack, did not take her life, as it could have, though it did take her breath, several ribs and a clavicle, a shoe , a sock, some clothes and well you get the idea. Her King’s careful hand averted a much greater potentiality. She could have landed in oncoming traffic and been killed, could have lost her helmet and suffered a brain injury, could have slid down the road and been covered in road rash,… it could have been so much worse… She thinks of this during some of her more unsavory times of distress. Broken but not bruised, it is a small price to pay for a another day to ride into the sunset; to feel the hands of her beloved and her mama as they carry her to wholeness; another day to thank the wings of her King.

Stage 2: November’s Acuity: Fractured Within

The Dark Side of Healing A few weeks ago, I was in a motorcycle accident that fractured both my body and my spirit. Right before the accident, a friend set me a diary of a nun in the 1930s: The Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska. She writes that it was the most difficult time of her life when she grappled with the thought that God might have forsaken her. A few weeks into my ordeal, her words prompted a similar dialogue within me. A part of me, in the grip of pain, emerged from the fracture inexplicably panicked at the notion that I may have been forsaken by God, His promises notwithstanding. The fear chased me in my most vulnerable moments and filled me with intense, remorseful dismay and panic. I was helpless, floundering and terrified, shocked at myself as I continued to switch easily between faith and panic. My pre-accident self knew, without a doubt, that God would never leave me nor forsake me but my fractured self was overwhelmed with the fear that He had.

As my ribs allowed me to breathe deeply once again, so did my spirit as well. It has been a process, but as I heal, I have been able to grasp that there is a difference between being forsaken and being set apart by trial for a purpose. In the Bible, the term holy often refers to being set apart. Before now, I have thought of this in positive terms: Set apart by God to show others who God is, His attributes. It did not occur to me that being set apart, in this case, feeling forsaken and feeling out of his presence, could also be part of His working of Holiness in me. Maria Faustina helped me to recognize that though I feared being forsaken, I have never been alone. God’s hands have been, and always will be, purposefully guiding me with intent to sanctify, purify, to make new. I am never forsaken.

I do not understand all of the intricacies of what God could possibly be doing in my life through this year of escalating breakage but I do understand that His purposes are higher than mine. His truth tells me that whatever circumstances my life brings, I am never without the help and kindness of my faithful God.

Stage Three: Still Fractured. Still afraid.

December’s Distance: The Many Layers of Fear and Faith

I have heard of such trials as mine being compared to giving birth and so I asked: What is God birthing in me that requires such pain in the process? Giving birth to my last son was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced… until the rib spasms after the accident.

With the birth of J, I struggled for years with the question: How could I call myself a Godly woman if in my fiercest time of need I did not cry out to God for help? Years later, my answer came unbidden with the simplest explanation. The thing about faith is that God is right there at the point of my need especially when endurance takes all I have. I was not faithless. He was FaithFUL.

So when this time around came upon me, I was confidently not bothered by (in)ability to endure only, God would birth in me something unexpected and beautiful through this breaking. I, having learned the birth lesson, trusted my God to Romans 8:28 me: “ And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”

Despite my confidence and having worked through issues of fear mere weeks before, another part of me continued to emerge who existed right alongside the faithful one. I was, at times of mounting fatigue and pain, engulfed in the feeling that all I had ever believed was false.. I haven’t felt that way since college when, through His intervention, I was brought back from the brink of a world without God. It was a foundational time in my life when I knew the existence of God was non negotiable. I’ve never looked back until this hurting, fragile self re-emerged from the fracture.

I was, once again immersed in inexplicable panic. Is everything that I have known as true been false? I was helpless, floundering and terrified, again shocked at myself as I continued to switch easily between faith and panic.

I came upon a devotion by Lisa Harper that began my final settling. She calls times like mine, “the necessity of spiritual neediness.” She goes on to say that “Jesus came to heal the sick, to those who acknowledge that they are sick not those who pretend they are perfectly well.” She quotes Mark 9:24, wherein a father of a sick child is struggling and he says: “I do believe; help me with my unbelief.”

And suddenly, there it was; my fracture in a verse. Two parts of me occupying the same space; belief and unbelief. God welcomes both, He welcomes all of me. My acknowledged spiritual neediness is His spiritual glue.

At last, from within the fracture, has come the certainty that it is not a weakness to acknowledge my need, my vulnerabilities, my fear. Rather, perhaps, it is a prerequisite to a deeper relationship with God. It seems that it is sometimes, usually, necessary to be in utter, desperate need in order to rediscover the all-sufficiency of God.

My Pastor then put the finishing touches on the glue that knit my fractured spirit back together. He simply said it is a daily choice to choose Joy; a daily choice to choose connection with God; A daily choice to focus on the things that matter and not to be trapped in our temporary, negative circumstances. It is, in fact, a choice to believe and to ask for help with the unbelief.

And look there, God did birth in me Romans 8:28, afterall.

Stage Four: The Scent of Water

Spring’s Renewal: The Awakening Abundance

“For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again...through the scent of water it will bud.” Job 14:7

I love the desert in Spring with its many different textures of green and bright dots of color. The sprinklings of yellow and purple with surprises of orange scattered among the delicate velvet of the cattail grass. The light green, almost white, of the prickly thinness of the aloe vera is nearly eclipsed, in turn, by the cottony explosions of red branched, white leaved softness. A flourishing Palo Verde tree sprouts randomly in the midst, like an English Governess tending her charges, arms outstretched, welcoming and watchful. I turn with delight to see my contrasting red furred pups frolicking excitedly as they bound and pop amidst the joy of this familiar yet reimagined landscape.

The earthy sweetness rises up to greet the fresh washed smell of the desert as it embraces me. I breathe in the scent of this water and am touched to awe by the promise of the awakening abundance to come.

“She said something about sailing out on living water. It was herself that she meant.”

Scent of Water by E. Goudge

~Living the Journey

Anne

March, 2019

February in Albuquerque

The icy wind snaps at my face and bare hands. The high fluffy, white clouds seem to mock me from afar as if to say I would be better off if I had a few to wear on my hands to fool the biting wind. It is a clear, crisp day on our New Mexican ranch and the dark green, low shrubs and juniper trees stretch out as far as I can see. Across the road I see my favorite windmill whirling in the wind, the clean fresh winter filling my lungs and spirit. It is good to be in the place my heart already calls home.

It is snowing on the mountaintop and so we climb from the valley to meet it. The pale new sun is diminished within the opaque sky. The road has a dusting of snowflakes at the start of our ascent but this quickly becomes more and more pronounced as we climb. My new Acadia seems up to the task as we slip and slide a bit, thankful for my driver and the traction button, to put things right. At the end of the road, the sun is shining bright in the clean, crisp air. There is something about the altitude, I think, that creates a clarity of vision that is sharp and vivid. The white of the slopes separated from the same color sky only by the snow sprinkled pines within the silent wonder of the snow filled air. It is a brilliant day to play in the snow.

We have 3 skiers and a snowboarder with us today clad in makeshift warming layers. Two of the skiers are skilled, the others braving this mountain for the first time. They manage an initial couple runs in the bright sun before the clouds cover over, the wind picks up, and the snow flurries come down in earnest. The valley below becomes invisible as the fairyland mists cut us off from all but the awe of this pocket of winter.

I marvel at the tenacity and bravery of my young charges. They are not daunted by the challenges of learning this new skill; not the fear of the ski lift exit nor the falling at intervals nor the simple cold of sitting in the snow awaiting the inspiration to muster. Their willingness to brave the unknown makes me smile in fascination.

We are told the sun is again shining at the very top of the mountain, above the clouds, so off go a dad and son to conquer the last of the slopes. I am transported into my world of words as my spirit is overcome with the hardly containable joy of the ‘nature’ of this place and the spirit freeing magic of skiing.

Skiing is a place where you can be free of self judgement; free of the voice in your head; from the shackles of expectations, self recriminations, regrets, doubts, hopes and even dreams… to let go of all of life’s pressures and loss and fly free in the glorious gratitude of the moment. A small window of time to allow the crisp wind of your descent to clear away the accumulation and complications of life and empower the pressing of your own reset button. Such a gift it is to be wholly present in this present.

Inviting you to being wholly present in the precious present with me,

Anne

Since my motorcycle accident, I have had much to ponder and work through.  My  journey through pain will be coming but first, I’d like to share a sweet gift from God from last night. Please see below.

Anne

My Perplexities.  His Light.

“In Your light, we see light.” Psalms 36:9

I couldn’t sleep last night.  I began thinking about my friend’s seemingly fairytale life as her second daughter’s wedding approaches.  Such joy, anticipation, beauty and light exudes from all of them. As is my way, my thoughts turned to my own wedding and all my conflicting emotions surrounding it.  I had a few disappointments with my well laid plans and they have haunted me these 23 years. So, of course, I began dwelling on them, whirling up my dismay in the darkness… until my day’s devotional verse popped in to interrupt my cycle.   I began to mull over Psalms 36:9.

Earlier in the day, I learned that the verse could also be read:  “By Thy light, we see light.” It carries with it the idea of discovering as we seek His light and, then having discovered as we see light; in my mind, the questions brought to God on the front end are satisfied on the back end.   A commentary expanded on it by saying: “As Thou are the Source of light, and all light proceeds from Thee, so we shall be enabled to see light or to see what is true, only as we see it in Thee. (Only) by looking to Thee shall we see light on all those great questions which perplex us… It is not by looking at ourselves… that we can hope to have the questions which perplex us solved.” -A. Barnes

As I considered all these things laying on my back in the darkness, unbidden, my wedding popped back up. God proceeded to take me step by step through that day. His light redeeming my memory of it as my disappointments receded in the brightness. I may not have the keepsakes I thought I longed for from it, but I had an especially fine day filled with fairytale loveliness that I can be proud and blessed by. A 23 year old disappointment that it didn’t occur to me to give to God, graciously soothed away by the light of His presence.

“How great is the love, the Father has lavished on us…!”  I John 3:1. I so love it when God unexpectedly pops in and uses His Word to inform my real life ‘perplexities’. (Check that one off the list!) Truly, even in my dark bedroom, in His light, we see light!    

So Cool!

♥ Anne

January, 2018

Two Thousand Eighteen:

A Series of Unfortunate and, sometimes, Heart Rending Events

      #Life #Fighting for JOY

Let’s see, 2018…

A drunk driver sped down my controlled access cul de sac and crashed in my front yard, effectively taking out our two cars at once; no injuries.

Later, a deer took out our replacement car; no injuries.

June brought the unexpected death of my oldest cousin, stopping me in my tracks.

My dog, then, licked a poison frog and spent a week on death’s door.  Just as he was on the mend, our baseball team of close knit families fell disastrously apart, distressing many a heart in the process.

August brought a season of new beginnings as my youngest began both Middle School and a new baseball team. It has been a volatile transition of angst and fury.

In September, our car was totalled; no injuries, a bittersweet connection of difficulty with gratitude.

In October, Philp and I, on our Harley, were stopped at a crosswalk when a texting driver plowed into us sending me aloft and breaking my clavicle and 5 ribs…  

As I survey the state of my year from my perch here in November, I am amazed.  

When I was well enough to go back to church, I found that my Pastor had begun a new series:  Fighting for Joy, and it summed up my year nicely. It has been a year of an ever progressing volley of  breakage: material, physical, emotional and spiritual, if you will. And with each crisis, it has become ever more evident that Joy is not only worth fighting for, but it is essential.

Joy is, afterall, not a result of circumstances, but rather the result of being held during them by my faithful God. He welcomes me at the very point of my need and  tells me that fighting for Joy simply proves this truth and it propels me as effectively up off the pavement as the driver propelled me onto it. He tells me that it is time to take back our joy. It is time to rejoice in His coming and the hopeful message He brings with Him: We are stronger when we find our strength, not in our circumstances, but in our strengthening connection to God through joy.

May this New Year bring you victory after victory

as you fight for joy in your circumstances.

 DO NOT fear!  

He has overcome the world

so that we need not be overcomed by it.

Loving you,

Anne and boys

November, 2018

“I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  

John 16:33

Chandler, AZ  

September 23, 2018

New Wine  *a song by Hillsong Worship*

In the crushing, in the pressing, You are making new wine.

In the soil, I now surrender. You are breaking new ground

So I yield to You and to Your careful hand.

I trust You.  I don’t need to understand

Make me Your vessel, make me an offering, make me whatever You want me to be

I came here with nothing but all You have given me.

Jesus, bring new wine out of me

’cause where there is new wine, there is new power, there is new freedom.

How funny.  As I wrote the title for this, I thought I could have named it “New Whine” but not this time…

This week for the second time in less than a year, we lost the Celestial Blue beast, our Cadillac. This time, however,  it won’t be coming back. The twisting and grinding around an industrial light pole has taken it from us. “Not again”, my heart has been muttering, whine-fully, quietly, beneath my gratitude. Muttering until I stood to sing in church the very next Sunday.

We opened with the above song as my thoughts sling shotted to my Cadi. “In the crushing, in the pressing”, we sang and I could see the blue metal, the paint three quarters around the light pole, the significant crushing and pressing.   I could feel the soil of my discontent just under my gratitude. I began to sense the breaking of new ground as I could see His careful hand allowing the crushing of only the car, the driver unscathed. I could hear His voice in the words, asking me to yield; to trust; to forego understanding and to wait.

Asking me to wait for the new wine that, as He did at the Cana wedding, will be the better wine than all the rest.  His words promising me that in the waiting there is hope because where there is new wine, there is new power and new freedom.

I came here with nothing and You are making me something! Make me a vessel to carry Your hope.  Make my life an offering of gratitude. Make me whatever, whomever, You want me to be even when, especially when, it requires the pressing for new wine; the promise power, freedom. But, above all, Lord, thank you, beyond words for Your careful hand.

*Anne*

Unexpected Healing

I received a text on Saturday.  My Sisterhood’s trip to Hawaii had begun, the one I was not going to join…until they sent me a ticket for Sunday…

Moana’s chicken, Heihei, was the first to greet me in Maui as he randomly, unpredictably jutted down the runway to my left. The fresh, ocean breeze washed the airplane sleep from my eyes as I took deep cleansing breaths. This was not where I expected to be this weekend.

This week/summer has been an emotional one with the recent anguish of Zegan’s brush with death; a shake up with our baseball family; the injustice of another; and the irretrievable loss of Marcia…

I was conflicted about dropping everything and joining my Sisterhood in Maui. I sound like a brat, I know, but I am not so pliable anymore.  The journey from impending loss to promise of sudden joy, left me tangled.

A visit with Oswald Chambers’ book, focusing me back on my Savior, began my unwinding.

And then, He gave me that silly erratic chicken. It was as if the chicken embodied the tangle of my summer, and as it ran away, it took my conflicted self with it, making room for the healing to come.

What better place to sort out life, surrounded by my Sisterhood, than this sudden gift of joy: a ticket and promise of paradise.

Hello, Maui.

July, 2018

AMRB