Broken Ground

The second law of thermodynamics

Ordinarily, when I hear the word “broken”, I immediately think of something that was previously useful and served some purpose, but, through some mishap or overuse has become useless or difficult to use. Often we are faced with the dilemma of whether to repair that item or dispose of it. Sometimes those two choices are clouded in doubt, with factors such as monetary or sentimental value, cost of repair, environmental impact, value to someone else, etc. I have unpleasant memories of a 1980 Ford Econoline that refused to die, but didn’t exactly like living either. I’m not sure at what point we crossed the line and were actually throwing that good money after the bad, but it most certainly did occur with that vehicle…and I still get a little sad when I remember having all those kids settled in their respective seats and wondering what would happen on this day when I turned that key.

Regardless of the specific causes, things break down over time. Including things more important than eight passenger vans. Like people, for instance…and relationships…and good behavior. Behaviors can be addressed and improved, and relationships can be nurtured and sometimes restored. But all living things, if they live long enough, will eventually be broken down. So wholeness and vigor equals good, and brokenness equals bad, right?

The good, the bad, and the broken

But…there are some kinds of brokenness that are very good.

So many things in life cannot improve or reach their full potential until they are broken. I never get tired of gathering my fresh, many-colored eggs in the afternoon. I arrange them in a basket or on my egg skelter and admire the heck out of them. Things of simple beauty. But…everyone knows you have to “break some eggs to make an omelet”. Domesticated animals, including pets and farm animals, are often intentionally broken by their owners in order to care for them better or so that the animals can be of more usefulness. My hens have learned to come to me when I have a bag of dried mealworms on my person. A little shake of that bag, while calling, “Here chick, chick, chick…”, in my best clucky voice, and they come running; sometimes I do have to toss of few of the tasty treats toward the more stubborn ladies, but you get the picture. I had the great pleasure of attending a horse competition with my sister a few years ago. Young horses that had never been saddled or ridden were transformed by seasoned trainers into steady, calm (mostly) cowboy transportation in a mere three days. A little brokenness was indeed good.

Then there is land. Breaking ground for building a structure or planting a garden can be a very good thing. I was overjoyed to watch the process from start to finish when we added an attached garage to our farmhouse a decade or so ago. Clearing, digging and leveling the ground; then pouring the concrete foundation and closing in and finishing the structure were all satisfying to observe. Clearing a space for a new flower bed behind the house added new delights for all of the senses…beautiful blossoms…pinks, purples, blues and whites; aromas of mints and lavender; tastes of those same mints and chives; the velvety surface of comfrey; and sounds aplenty from our appreciative birds. The broken earth was transformed in both cases to areas that bring joy on so many levels.

Every year we break up the hardened earth of our garden…mixing in mounds of dried leaves, buckets of ash from our wood stoves, and wheelbarrow loads of wood shavings and manure from the chicken coop. Working it all into the soil, adding nutrients, getting it ready to receive the seeds and seedlings and water. The brokenness prepares the soil to receive. Without that brokenness the seeds would likely wash away and never sprout.

Field of daydreams

On a grander scale…our four-acre field. When we moved here in 1989, on the south side of our yard, running along the highway was the ghost of a pasture. Rusty t-posts lay on their sides or were broken off at ground level. Bits of wire were woven through the tall grasses and encroaching trees. Here and there was the odd ditch that signaled a broken field tile beneath the surface. I’m sure there was a time, probably during the 1970’s, when the field was a lovely enclosed paradise for several horses, or maybe a small herd of cattle. But chaos had won out. David had the occasional fit of a vision to reclaim it, mostly for aesthetic reasons; but the idea of clover or alfalfa and the harvesting of bales of hay crept into our thinking every now and then.

Recently for a couple of summers, David sowed a hay mixture in the field, and a neighbor, who owns all of the haymakers’ necessary equipment, harvested scores of basic bales, both square (those rectangular prism ones) and the big round ones. We really enjoyed watching all of the activities, from the mowing and raking to the actual gathering and shaping. This year, however, the neighbor has other plans, and the field would be idle. Simple and charming with its grasses and wildflowers, but idle. Unproductive.

A new look at an old field

A few weeks ago we were approached by a new friend and local farmer about the field. Would we be willing to rent it to them? Would we be willing to allow them to alternately grow field corn and soybeans? After a very short discussion with David, weighing the pros and the cons, we agreed. We may be rubes, but we absolutely could not come up with any cons.

So over the ensuing days we watched that field worked. The farmer and his tractor began showing up in the late afternoon with implements in tow. First the plow cut deep into the hardened land. The tractor crisscrossed the field leaving in its wake great clods of dirt, stones, and lengths of tree roots. Later the tractor pulled a room-sized disc harrow back and forth over the acres, breaking up the dirt and debris even more. Finally on a hot, dry evening the seeds were planted, dropped into the crumbled soil in neat rows. And now we wait for rain. We hope for rain. We hope for new growth. Future nourishment for animals and ultimately for people.

Wait…what is this post about? Where was I? Oh…brokenness.

The beauty of brokenness

Our hearts and minds are fields. We move through life…sometimes purposefully…sometimes aimlessly. And for all our semi-good intentions we can become hardened, set in our ways. We fill our lives with stuff. Stuff and distractions. Things grow in us. Things become more extreme, less diverse, as we age. Maybe we are aware of it…more likely we are not. We lose intentionality. We go with the flow. We are numbed with busyness and then, to relax, we zone out with some distraction.

I guess I really should not generalize. I believe all of that to be true, but honestly I really only know about me…and what is broken in me. My heart, left to its own devices, grows hard. A germ of an idea flutters through my thoughts and then disappears as I nod off. I bombard myself with creative images from social media, and daydream about trying to create; but I don’t have time to create…I’m too busy bombarding myself with more of those endless creative images. I might rename this activity “learning”…that sounds good…even noble…but as this retired teacher well knows, reading about something and being satisfied with that reading alone, and never entering into that knowledge with curiosity and action falls short…misses the mark.

So…every now and then I need something or someone to come along and say,

“May I use that heart of yours for something?”

“May I make something beautiful and bountiful with it?”

The plow and the harrow and the rototiller will be uncomfortable…painful…almost unbearable…almost. The breaking might be an illness or a lost relationship…a death or a conviction of sin…one’s own moral failure or that of someone dear. It might be a whisper from God or an ear-splitting thunderbolt. But afterward the seeds of growth can more easily take root, and the soothing and nourishing waters can more easily refresh. And the green seedlings can reach out and become something completely unexpected and utterly satisfying.

“The Lord is near the brokenhearted; he delivers those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3

“My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.” Psalm 51:17

“No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.” Hebrews 12:11