My First Broken Heart

Do you remember your first broken heart? I do. He was the most wonderful man in the world, sweet, kind. He was interested in everything I did, was very encouraging. He was the first person who thought I was beautiful. He held my hand. He never minded if I cried, I knew in those arms everything was alright. He sang to me.

His face actually shown with love, a smile and tilted head and a laugh that was silly. He had a sense of humor, and was strong, yet gentle. His eyes were piercing and passionate with love.

He was my first love, my only love. There would never another like that. He was dear and spoke softly, the words were tender and yet firm. I knew I could trust this one, anything that was said was the truth. There was nothing that this man could and would not do for me, and I was in love.

And then it was over. He died suddenly and cruelly.

I never loved anyone else like that. Not the silly school boys that never grew up as they actually grew up. I loved people. I loved children. Even though I know there are some who think I know nothing about love, perhaps it is they, misjudging me as usual. I tried to write love stories, I never finished a novel. I wrote poetry, I was good at that.

Very few people read it and it was often rejected for publication as were many stories. There was a young man I loved. He was funny and a fellow Christian. I was twenty four, but he was already married. That is friend love.  I wrote a children’s book, it was a fairy tale, the princess in the book tried to find love, I still have it.

I wondered if I saw myself in that story. Are there Cinderellas? Sleeping Beauties? Happily ever afters? Is there even a Prince Charming? Well one day I thought I met him,  beautiful blue eyes, soft spoken and a doctor. Maybe, I should give up these notions of being a writer and just settle down. I hated beauty college. I had not really wanted to go to Bible college, either. I had once even said I did not want to be a Bible thumper, in reference to those who were so preachy, yet mean, who would not even bother to help you, who knew so little about the love of God.

There was another broken heart. I picked back up my pen and dusted off my typewriter. I had cried enough, I prayed for the doctor to find his love and peace with God and I just hoped I could.  I found the warmth and hope in my prayers, and again I began to write.

And once again, I found love. There is no Prince Charming but Jesus and He puts you with the right husband or wife if you let Him. There are no perfect people and no perfect lives or marriages or children, but there is a perfect Lord and His ways and love are perfect.

The Lord has our happy endings, our love stories, even mine. I never got over my first broken heart and I’m glad I didn’t because He gave me more love than I could have ever dreamed possible. He does more than I can ask or think. He does the impossible. Oh, yes, He died, but He rose again. I embraced Him thoroughly, and I am engraved on the palms of His hands. He never left me, never forsook me, never abandoned me.

He is always with me, comforts me, never condemns but corrects my and He held me and healed me and loved me well, when I was facing the giants in my life, Jesus, my Prince of  Peace and protector, rushed to my defense. He does have a sword, a shield, a crown and the white horse.

Who would not love someone who wants to take your burdens away, dry your tears and heal your broken heart? I always hated that He had to die for me that way. But I was lost, and He would not have had it any other way. So I remember, my first broken heart, broken by Jesus and the message I heard of His sacrifice at eleven.

My first broken heart, I never got over Him. And I’m glad I didn’t because He was able to mend all the other breaks and now He guards it and I am free to love and be loved and I won’t have to worry about be heartbroken again.

Rebecca Jones

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