Worth Restoring

by Kristine Amundrud

WORTH RESTORING

I looked into the eyes of my counselor, and I told her how hopeless I had felt. Together we had taken part in the weekly ritual of looking at my heart under a microscope. Week after week, I wanted tangible evidence of inner change. But the more excavating we did, the further I felt drawn from true north. Through the lens, we saw my veins and arteries all functioning well. But upon closer inspection, my heart was riddled with gnarled roots of bitterness. I’d gotten a crash course in living on this side of heaven and my heart ached for home.

Restoration is by definition, to bring something back to what it was. I shall go back to the beginning, when the kingdom of God belonged to me. Growing up on a farm nestled between a view of the Canadian Rocky Mountains and Alberta wheat fields, my brother and I spent many carefree days leaping from straw bale to bale, our shoes collecting grass remnants. An airstrip was carved into the middle of a field on our property. My dad, a farmer and pilot, flew for the sheer joy, and as I’d later find out, for escapism. There were days in my youth when I’d sprint headlong to the end of the airstrip, attempting to gain speed and test my arms as wings. Dad insisted that flying wasn’t just for the birds, and I took him at his word.

I spied an eagle’s nest sitting high in a tree near the end of the airstrip. I tried to catch up with the majestic bird as it soared and dipped through the air. Isaiah 40:31 talks about those who hope in the Lord renewing their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. Midlife now, my so-called wings are tired and bruised. Moreover, it’s my heart that’s in real need of repair. My timeline is one of grief mixed with new life; a funeral followed by a wedding, children being born and alas, a mother turning away—a grandmother gone MIA.

I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve struggled with anger. It surprised me at first, rising up like a torrential wave, crashing over everyone I loved. Picture a homeschool mom overwhelmed by unprocessed feelings of abandonment and loss. My dad’s Cessna 182 crashed into a field nearly fifteen years ago, seven minutes following takeoff. The report read “pilot error,” but I’d never believe it. Fog hung thick that evening in November and dad had Get-Home-Itis Syndrome. I realized while sitting in my counselor’s office, that I’d held my mom responsible for his accident. I’d learned as an adult that it was a difficult marriage. She was the last to speak to him on that fateful night, and I can’t help but wonder what words were exchanged. Add that to the list of things we’d never bring into the light. God gave my dad a fast pass to heaven, so did the details even matter?

Create in me a clean heart, O God. (Psalm 51:10-12 ESV) This Lutheran liturgical melody is etched into my memory. My family sat in the fourth wooden pew each Sunday, confessing our sins with rote prayers. This verse from Psalm 51 is a reminder to not only focus on the sins of others, but to give thanks for our own cleansed hearts. My heart was all knotted up after years of normalized dysfunction. I’d once called God a liar for holding out on miraculous healing. He should have cured my mom’s mental afflictions and personality disorder by now! Having given up on him restoring our relationship, could he at least mend my ragged heart? I wondered if he’d trade in my heart of stone for a heart of flesh. Lord, tell me I’m worth restoring.

And renew a right spirit within me. A right spirit creates right relationships. Last September, my mom and I sat in a counselor’s room together. Cold and stoic in the corner chair, she seemed pained by my presence. It was a last straw effort at reconciliation after many cyclical seasons of relational strife. My heart was open, but as I nervously picked at my cuticles, I could tell the writing was on the wall. It’s not our job to fix what’s broken in others. God gently whispered, “Let me fix what’s broken in you.”

Cast me not away from your presence and take not your Holy Spirit from me. The things we wrestle with have power to draw us away from God or hurl us towards him. I’d experienced both. God never came to kill or destroy, and yet I’d accused him of being a thief, for he saw fit to end my dad’s life sooner than I desired. And yet it was God’s loving kindness that released dad from the trials he faced. I called God out on being selfish—his timing, his plans. In the end, I came full circle and felt the deep, deep love of Jesus. God desires fellowship and calls us to repent, thereby opening the door to restoration.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation and uphold me with a willing spirit. Once a tragedy or trauma occurs, it feels onerous to return to joy. Darkness clouds our senses and whispers discouragement: “Nothing will ever be the same again.” From a place of survival, I’ve scarce considered restoration a possibility. All the striving to right what’s wrong in my heart and family of origin has only led to exhaustion. What if restoration is creative work best left in our Creator God’s hands? All he asks for is a willing heart.

Restoration, by our design, isn’t always forward thinking. So often, I’m Lot’s wife looking back. Restore things to the way they were! My old heart functioned just fine! That relationship was toxic but at least we were talking! Restoration by God’s design is visionary, calling upon trust in order for us to grow. It’s not an overnight process, but don’t give up! In Revelation 21:1-5, John talks about a new heaven and a new earth, which essentially means that God is restoring his creation. The passage that John shares possesses the power to carry you with hope—through every disappointment, heartache, diagnosis, lost relationship, unsaid good-bye or season of grief. Friends, if God can restore his entire creation, how much more will he restore us? Behold, I am making all things new.

I looked into the eyes of my heavenly Father and told Him I was ready for a new heart. The eagle’s nest is no longer at the end of the airstrip, but I haven’t given up on flying. Run, unabandoned, into the face of the wind with me and praise God for the restorative work he’s done, is doing, and will continue to do!

KRISTINE AMUNDRUD

Kristine Amundrud is a wife and homeschool mom. She finds joy creating in the kitchen, walking alongside her husband, adventuring in the Canadian Rockies, and cuddling up with her children and a good storybook. She loves friendships that go beneath the surface. At the end of the day, she is a daughter of the King who is loved beyond measure. Kristine holds a Bachelor of Music in Piano Performance from the University of Alberta, as well as a Bachelor of Education. Connect with her on Instagram @kamundrud and at soulsigh.com.