Break My Heart and Make Me Dance

By Susan Hill

When I was young, I knew God loved me. I followed Him. Being His child was natural and easy. Then I hit puberty, and my world changed. There were things I saw that I wanted, things that I thought He might not want me to have. I started to wander. Still, I was not stupid. I knew I still needed Him as Savior; it was His Lordship that gave me pause. Eventually I stripped Him of His Lordship and went to live in the fallen world. I kept Him as my Savior, but I made no effort to follow Him.

I loved my life in the fallen world. Still, it had its challenges. There were times I would find myself in the dreaded Valley of the Shadow of Death. I knew somehow He was responsible. It was in the Valley that I would find myself needing Him. Eventually I would have to call on Him. And rescue me He would, but I refused anything but temporary rescue. I would be thankful for a few days, but the desire for my old life in the fallen world would soon reclaim me, and I would put Him back on the shelf.

There was so much out there to grab for, and the fallen world did push and encourage me to go for happy. There was a problem with that: I was created to be filled with joy, His joy. Happy was just a temporary, dim simulation.

I finally had to face the questions. Does He really love me? Is He really to be trusted? Is He really the God of the Bible? If the answer to these questions was yes, could I really have enough confidence in Him to make Him my center and follow Him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781449772338

Susan Hill

Susan Hill is a writer and Bible teacher with an MA in theology and a BS in journalism. She and her husband, John, live in Nashville, Tennessee, with two unruly goldendoodles. 

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BREAK MY HEART AND MAKE ME DANCE

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By Susan Hill

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Copyright © 2012 Susan Hill

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4497-7233-8 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-7234-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-7235-2 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012919627

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/14/2012

Contents

Dedication

Why I Dance

Face Of Evil

The Tormentors

My Dad The Engineer

The Sundress

The Beatles

Putting Him In The Center

Grandmother And The Casserole

The Baptism

Rebecca Kay And Kathy

Zak’s Kick In The Head

The Pit

The Throne

Via La Paloma

Let It Flow

How Love Grows

Dead-End Road

My Friend The Atheist

The House Payment

The Scar

The $27.00 Story

Participation

Fibromyalgia And Exercise

Dreams Of Being A Doctor

Mike The Artist

The Rabbit And The Bumper

Language

$70.00 Times Four

Sometimes He Nudges Me

Lord And Savior

The Sacrifice

Drama

Roe V Wade

The Good Kid

The Hidey Hole

Calling

Hidden Strength And Wealth

The Mountain

My MG

French Fries And Ketchup

Bookmobile

Cabell

The Ghetto

His Hands

The Hospital

Noise

Joy

In The World Not Of The World

The Gift

Hero

The Message

Pork And Beans

Communication Breakdown

Bickering

The History Channel

Joshua

Absurd Situations

Fingernails

The Fake Tooth

The Dream

All Men Are Created Equal

My Struggle To Trust

One Toe At A Time

Forgiveness

The Dryer

No Matter What The Future Holds

The Cakewalk

Bible Craziness

The Last Thing On My Mind

What Is Christmas

The Stuff

The Fish Tale

Counting Cost

I Am Still Me

Eternity

The Congregation

The Cousins

Trusting

Miss Kenny

Words Of Love

The Judgment

Ginger

My Father

The Scientist

The Bridge

Favorites

Who’s On First?

The Big Bang

Why Has God Allowed Bad Things To Happen To Me?

The Escape Artist

The Prodigal Son

The Zone

Unpleasant Chores

Washcloths

My Best Friend

Dancing

Life Can Be Exhausting

The Phone Bill

Selfish

Minor Problems

I Really Want An Itinerary

Just To Be Your Child

Not So Romantic Thoughts About Life

His Hope Lifts Me Up

The Moose Head

Attacking My Fears

Disneyland

The Overalls

Money, Money, Money

The Emergency Room

Camping

Zoom Zoom

How Can I Be Afraid

An Exploding Volcano

Be Still

Stuck

Is That Their Only Job?

I Am A Leper

Boldness

The Evil Appear To Prosper

Dedication

To the women of the Curves at Dripping Springs,

Thank you for putting up with me and encouraging me onward while this book came together.

To my family,

Thank you for always surrounding me with your love and support.

To my friends,

Thank you for all the years of shared memories of the love, laughter, and tears.

To my Lord and God,

Thank You for breaking my heart and making me dance.

Why I Dance

For a life that started out so happy, I have hit up against some hard times. Some of those hard times have slammed me down so ruthlessly that they caused me to curl up in a ball and withdraw. How could I have allowed this sort of thing to happen to myself? For far too many times I have found myself living in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Down on the Valley floor, it’s really a horrible place. There is no joy, no peace, no hope. This is a place of torment. I know. In my adult life, I have come here on a number of occasions. And once I find myself here, it is just so hard to find my way out. I have become too familiar with this place.

The first time I came to the Valley I was 30. I ended up here because my mother died. She had been the one person I went to for everything. If I had a question, she had the answer. If I had a problem, she had the solution. If I needed forgiveness for something, I had done wrong, she never laid blame, she would just show me how to approach and handle the injured party. Whatever I needed; she was always there for me. She was my source. Losing her left me shattered and totally lost.

Another time I was in the Valley because I had become very ill. I was so weak that I could not get from my front door to the end of my driveway without help. For almost three years I went from specialist to specialist trying to get a diagnosis. As for me, I just knew I was dying. But from what, I had no idea.

On more than one occasion, the reason for my stay was financial. My husband did consulting work and sometimes the time between contracts would be much longer than anticipated; much, much longer.

Regardless of the reasons, I was always in the Valley because of a failure of some sort. Sometimes the blame would rest squarely on my shoulders. Even so, there were other times that I would somehow get caught in the undertow from the crashing waves of someone else’s failure, and I would find myself, innocent of all mistakes or wrong doing, thrown to the middle of the Valley floor.

A few years ago, I was working hard. I was trying to run my little business. I was not having great success. In fact, I was failing miserably. I did not know how much longer I could hold on.

At home, we had not had an income in almost two years. I had no idea what was going to become of us. How could I continue? I knew things were bad, but then when the realization hit me. I was back in the Valley. My stomach sank…

I have been a Christian since I was a small child. My early years were very happy. I had confidence in my relationship with Him. He was my Lord and Savior. I knew He loved me. Life was all very natural. But then, about the time puberty hit, the glitz of the fallen world caught my eye. I became the prodigal child. I wandered away from Him.

I would go back occasionally to see Him. He remained my Savior. It was the part of the relationship where He was my Lord that suffered badly. It was pretty obvious I didn’t trust Him to guide my path. I wasn’t really sure He wanted the same things for me that I wanted. However, let me tell you, when your address is the Valley of the Shadow of Death you don’t have a lot of friends lining up to help you. So when I was in the Valley my relationship with Him, or I guess you could say my dependence on Him, would increase. (And I would wonder why He kept having me come back here?)

During my stays in the Valley, when my situation would get desperate, I would hand Him a problem to solve, just one at a time. The thing that amazes me now is that He was forever faithful. He would supply what I asked for, but no more than what I asked for. And I hated to ask Him because I knew I didn’t deserve His help. I would lie around and cry and moan and groan, sometime for hours. Then help would show up from a completely unexpected place. Oh, the crying and moaning and groaning would be entirely sincere on my part, but I knew this wasn’t really how the relationship was supposed to work.

Eventually, He would come to me and tell me that my time in the Valley was over. (Did I hear the words "for now"?) He would lead me out, and I would get to go back to live in the fallen world and think I was happy. My relationship with Him would return to the back burner.

But late last year, when I saw I was once again in the Valley, something in me broke. I thought I just could not do this again. I didn’t want to do this again. I looked at my options… there were none. I could try to quit, but that would not get me out of the Valley. I finally turned to Him and told Him I was trying to live my life right, but I was getting nowhere. What was I supposed to do?

He replied, Come to Me.

I did not understand. Wasn’t I standing there talking to Him? I was feeling a little like a deer caught in the headlights. I really did not know which way to turn. I needed direction. Finally, a friend brought me a devotional. (I will forever believe He sent her.) I thought, OK… devotionals were supposed to be good. Maybe it would help. I couldn’t see it hurting. So every morning, long before the sun would come up, I would read the devotional. After a few days, I started talking to Him about what I read. Before I knew what was going on I was spending time with Him every morning. (Today, I know how important this is, and I have become very dependent on having this time with Him.)

One day I realized that although I was still in the Valley something very strange had happened to me. He had lifted me up off the Valley floor. Instead of being distraught with where I was, I was filled with the most incredible Peace and Joy over Who I was with. I finally told Him, I could see that He was much better with my life than I was, if it still interested Him, He could have it, not just little bits and pieces, but the whole thing. If He would lead, I would follow. If He could make life in the Valley joyful, I had no doubts about anything else.

Now He has opened up to me a life that is more unbelievable than I thought possible. (Remember, I was the one who wasn’t sure He wanted the same thing for me that I wanted. Well, I was right. He wanted so much more.)

I am finally OK with living in the Valley. I am not here alone. I am with Him. He brings me Peace, surrounds me with Love, fills me with Joy, and it all just makes me want to dance.

Face Of Evil

Back in 1958, this was a different world. My family had just moved from Houston to Dallas. While Mom and Dad looked for a house, we were living in an apartment that was located in the middle of the city. Our apartment was right across the street from the Texas Instruments where my dad worked. This particular TI location was in, as I remember it, a huge building that had two guards out front.

I attended Maplelawn Elementary. It was about four or five blocks from our apartment. I walked to and from school every day. There were usually a lot of other kids walking with me. We just kinda went en masse. I always had to walk past the big TI building. Most days, on my way home I would usually stop to say hi to the guards out in front as I walked past the building. They were kind to me, and one of them would normally give me a stick of gum. Then I would turn the corner and walk almost the full length of the building before I crossed the street to get to our apartment.

Walking to and from school meant having to cross Lemmon Avenue and Inwood Road. Trust me when I tell you that today you would not send a six or seven-year old out there to cross those major streets alone. However, in 1958, it was a different world. Children were taught to listen when adults spoke to them. (There was no such thing as stranger danger.) Children would cross major streets in the middle of the city alone. Yes, it was a much safer world… or so everyone thought.

I remember one day when I was walking home all alone. The guards were busy that day, so I didn’t stop. I rounded the corner and had gotten about a fourth of the way down the length of the building when a man who was parked on the side of the street called me over to his car.

I was taught to respect my elders, so I went over there. To say I was naive was putting it mildly. This man was sitting in his car playing with something in his lap. It looked strange. I could not figure out what it was. He asked me if I wanted to get in his car and play with his toy. I looked at his face, and I knew I was looking at the face of evil. (I didn’t have a clue why he was evil. I just knew he was.)

Suddenly, I felt God whisper in my ear, Go home, now!

I looked the man in the eye and then just turned and walked away. He could have tried to grab me. I don’t know why he didn’t, except that from the moment that I knew he was bad, I felt protection surround me.

I can’t begin to tell you why there are times when evil manages to harm the innocent, and other times the innocent are protected. I just know that day, I was protected. It was the first time that I remember ever going into battle against evil. To be honest it was not a difficult battle, all I had to do was obey His Voice.

I hesitated about telling this story. I didn’t want it to sound like all the problems in my life are someone else’s doing. To be quite honest, if I want to look at my biggest adversary, all I have to do is look in the mirror. (My biggest problems revolve around my own selfishness and pride.) But there is no denying that there is evil in the fallen world. Often it will show up looking totally harmless or really cool. To be able to discern it, I need help. I need to keep my eyes on Him. He knows when I need to openly accept something, when I need to fight it, or when I need to flee. As long as I keep my focus, fear is a thing of the past. With that thought comes so much freedom. It leaves me free to dance.

The Tormentors

I have no memory of not being His child. I am not saying I was born a Christian. It does not work that way. It is just that I became a Christian when I was very young, and I have no memory of my life without Him. I don’t remember when it was that I accepted Him as my Lord and Savior, but I know I was little.

When I was six or seven, I finally got baptized. I can remember hearing some adult whispering (apparently not softly enough) that there was no way that I could know what it meant to be a Christian.

They were very wrong. I understood it possibly better than they did. It was natural and normal to belong to Him. I knew He was with me all the time, and that He loved me. I wanted for my life to be pleasing to Him. This same adult went on to tell others that I had no idea how tough it was to be a Christian. Now here, they were probably right. Being a Christian at that age was not hard. It was as natural as breathing. I was not yet jaded.

I remember that I had a friend in second grade. She was a wonderful friend. I loved her. She was sweet and gentle and a bit shy. There were other kids who would just torment her because she was so much bigger than all the rest of us. I did not understand. I would talk to Him when I would see it happen because it would confuse me. He would tell me that it was very sad for the kids who were tormenting my friend, but someday they would know that they were wrong to treat her this way. He would also tell me that it would help my friend if I just went and play with her. So that was what I would do. And as soon as we started to play I would forget all the mean things that had been said. I don’t know if she ever forgot. I never did want to ask her about it.

I would love to say that because of this experience that I knew better than to ever behave in this manner, but it’s not true. As I got older and pulled away from Him, there were times when I was just like my friend’s tormentors. Although there was one difference, I knew how bad it was and behaved poorly anyway.

Now that I am older and wiser(?), I understand how difficult it can be to be a Christian. I know that my words can hurt others. And here is the kicker, it does not matter who I hurt, if I open my big ol’ mouth and use it damage another it will be directed at someone He loves.

This can be tough, but now I know what to do. Maybe my innocence isn’t totally gone because when I keep my focus on Him, I don’t see reasons to try to cause pain. I don’t build up desires to hurt others. Besides when I am watching Him, I am spinning around in wonder over all that He does for me. I don’t have time to mouth off; I am just too busy dancing.

My Dad The Engineer

I am the daughter of an engineer. It is his left brain that I inherited. Oh, I didn’t get all of his brilliance, and he was brilliant, but I did inherit his way of thinking. When I was little, if he needed to repair something at our house, I was the one who would follow him around and hand him tools. When he would finish, we would both admire the function that had returned to the broken item… then my mother would come in. She wouldn’t see the beauty of the functioning. She would just moan at the awful appearance.

In their walk through life, my mother and father connected. They were soul mates. However, when it came to the functioning of household items, they never even started to speak the same language. My father looked at the beauty of the function; my mother looked at the esthetics.

I think if my mother had ever told him that the appearance was part of her specifications for the task at hand, he might have understood. He might have called her in for consultation. Even so, as it was, in this area of their relationship, they had no communication. Communication is the core of any relationship. Each party must speak their mind, and then they must be quiet and listen, the more important the relationship, the more important the communication.

My relationship with Christ is my most important relationship. Communication here is critical. I find myself understanding more and more how much I need it. He gives me such Peace. When I am alone with Him, my heart starts to fill with so much Joy, I have no choice, I have to stop and dance.

The Sundress

When I was around 11 or 12, my appearance started to matter to me. I started to pay attention to my clothes. I remember I had this yellow sundress that my mom bought for me. She just loved it. I will be really honest: it didn’t do anything for me. The color was just too bright.

One day, when I was reluctantly wearing it, I got something got splashed on the front of it. The dress ended up with a display of faded yellow spots across it. I was in big trouble. When my mom saw it, she got so upset. She knew I was not crazy about the dress, but I promise I did not ruin it on purpose (I don’t think).

She was right in the middle of telling me how expensive clothes were when suddenly she got this strange look on her face and stopped talking. She just picked up the dress and headed to the laundry room. As for me, I was just happy that the lecture was over.

Later that day, she brought the sundress back to me. She did something to it. It was changed. The spots disappeared. Suddenly, the whole dress a much softer yellow. Wow, it was perfect. I loved it. It became one of my favorite dresses.

He does this for me. He takes my problems and turns them around. I have to stop and ask myself, why did I go through so many years of trying to handle all but the really major stuff all by myself? It just seems silly now. I know He will take my stains and wash them away. It brings thanksgiving to my heart. It makes me want to dance.

The Beatles

I remember that fateful Sunday night in February of 1964. The Friday before, the entire fifth and sixth grade at my school left as children. On the following Monday, we returned as teenagers.

What happened to cause such a radical change? What caused a generation to grow up in just two and a half minutes? It was the Beatles in their first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show.

How could the music of four young men hold the entire youth of this country, of the world, so captive? I was there, one of those so willing taken prisoner, and I have no idea. But they became my passion while my relationship with Him, which was already suffering a lot, just went by the wayside. The Beatles became my focus.

I spent every penny that I could get my hands on for their records, any magazine with their picture on the front, and posters of them sitting, standing, or jumping. Anything Beatles, I would spend money on. And when I wasn’t spending money on them, I was in my room listening to their records for hours or on the phone talking to my friends about them. They pretty much monopolized any free time that I had.

Anything they said or did became news. In March of 1966, John Lennon told a reporter that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus Christ… Big mistake! The backlash in the US was tremendous. There were people who denounced the Beatles and burned their records. It was claimed that Lennon thought that the Beatles were better than God.

I have no idea what he thought, but that was not what he had said. Look closely, he simply stated that a lot of people (OK, mostly young people, but still a lot of people) were more focused on the Beatles than they were on Jesus. There might have been a little providence in what he said; he was right and people needed to hear it. However, he pointed out these peoples’ shortcomings; he pointed out their sin. And that caused great anger. For the most part, people are not crazy about having their sin pointed out.

Without meaning to, Lennon stated an awful truth. And it made a lot of people unhappy. (Hearing this did not make me angry. I knew Lennon was commenting on where people were placing their focus, not on the possibility of his own divinity. It made me think, but it did not make me change my focus.)

Did the Beatles create this sin? No, the Beatles created great music. (And I gotta tell you, I still love listening to it.) Oh, there was sin, but this was a sin that sat on top of the head of the one who placed her focus in the wrong