CHAPTER 2
Mending Broken Hearts —and Penetrating Hardened Hearts
FOR MOST OF US, a word picture will be a tool we use to build up, to strengthen, to clarify, or to encourage someone. For example, we know a nurse who literally handed a couple a “word picture” that made a tremendous difference in their marriage.
Brandon and Lydia had both been divorced for more than a decade when they met at work. It took five years of Brandon’s patient courting and consistent efforts to build a relationship with Lydia and her son to finally pay off in her saying, “I do.” But even then, all the hurt she had gone through in her first marriage made her question, deep inside, whether Brandon really loved her. On many levels, she knew he did. But how could she know for sure?
Then something happened that brought Lydia an answer to that question in a totally unexpected way. It started when Brandon was driving home early from work one day. Warnings had gone out for people to stay off the roads. One of Dallas-Fort Worth’s rare sleet-and-ice storms was projected to hit. Unfortunately, Brandon had not left work early enough.
The storm had already started dropping ice. It might not have mattered if Brandon had grown up driving in Minneapolis, but he was a Dallas native. His car hit a patch of black ice, began to spin, and the next thing he remembered was waking up in the hospital. Lydia was in the room, by his side.
For the next three days, doctors kept Brandon in the hospital for observation. That meant Lydia was going back and forth several times a day between their home, where her son and mother were, and the hospital.
With all of Lydia’s coming and going, Sandy, the day shift nurse who was taking care of Brandon, got to know the two of them and a bit of their story. On Brandon’s last morning in the hospital, before the doctor came to release him, Nurse Sandy stopped Lydia as she came in through Brandon’s door.
“Lydia, you’re a lucky woman,” she said.
“I know that,” Lydia replied, looking over at Brandon. “I’m so grateful the Lord spared Brandon, and for all you and the staff have done for him.”
“Well, thanks,” Sandy said. “And I’m glad the Lord was watching out for Brandon, too. But that’s not what I’m talking about. You’re lucky because your husband really loves you.”
After almost four days in a hospital, you do get to know people pretty well. But Lydia honestly thought Sandy was being a little personal and presumptuous.
Seeing the skepticism on Lydia’s face, Sandy continued, “Lydia, let me prove it to you. I’ve been keeping these. It’s something I started to notice when you’d come in the room, like right now.”
Brandon had been on a heart and vital sign monitor ever since he had been admitted. The monitor continuously printed out a strip of paper showing Brandon’s condition.
“Look here,” Sandy said, holding up one of those strips. “This is Brandon before you came in. These bumps or blips in his EKG line are what we call vertical reflections. They’re a measurement of Brandon’s heart activity.
“Now look at Brandon’s normal heart activity.” She pointed to a series of steady bumps on the paper. “Right in the normal range. But now, look at Brandon’s heart when you walk in.”
Brandon’s heart activity showed a spike in the blips when Lydia came in.
“So there,” Sandy said. “Take this home and know that every time your husband sees you, his heart skips a beat. That’s why I’m saying you’re a pretty lucky gal.”
It was Lydia’s heart that almost stopped.
Those pieces of EKG paper hadn’t been designed to be a word picture. Nor had the nurse meant them to be one. It was just her “observation” based on something she saw in Brandon’s vitals when Lydia walked into the room. And while her noticing that spike wasn’t based on a double-blind research study, done with a control group, and worthy of being an article in the New England Journal of Medicine, it meant the world to Lydia —and Brandon.
With all her doubts, even with Brandon’s faithful courting and loving her and her son, there had still been that nagging question: How can I know for sure? But now, printed in black and white, Lydia had undeniable proof. The Lord had not only spared her husband, but He had also given her a picture of Brandon’s love for her.
This, again, is one huge reason word pictures are so effective —even accidental ones like this! For Lydia, when she could see it, she believed it. Which is why Brandon wisely put those EKG strips into a frame and hung them on a wall in their home for her to view every day —just in case she ever had another doubt.
In more than 100 ways in the pages to come, you’ll see how an emotional word picture can have an impact in everyday life, as that heart monitor did for Brandon and Lydia. But there are times when things get more serious and downright tough, like when someone’s heart hardens. Then word pictures can be tremendously helpful at penetrating a person’s defenses and softening the heart.
Penetrating a Hard Heart
April 13, 2017: 4:32 a.m. The MC-130 military special mission aircraft lifted off and climbed into the air high over a specific piece of desert in Afghanistan. When the order came, the rear cargo door opened. A GBU-43/B Massive Ordinance Air Blast bomb (or MOAB, called the “Mother of All Bombs”) was dropped for the first time in military history. Its target: a huge cave and tunnel complex used by ISIS. The bomb was the United States’ most powerful non-nuclear bomb ever used. Weighing in at 21,600 pounds, it caused a blast that could be seen in space.[1]
One of the really challenging things you find yourself doing as a marriage and family counselor is trying to help families pick up the pieces. I was only two months old in 1952 when an emotional MOAB tore apart my parents’ marriage. According to Mom’s account, shared when I was much older, it happened on a Sunday afternoon. And it was a letter that did the damage.
She had taken all three of us boys (my older brother, Joe, twin brother, Jeff, and me) to the store and then to a nearby park. When she came home to their small, ground-floor apartment, my father was pulling out of the driveway. He had left a handwritten note on the breakfast room table. The note said he had packed most of his things in the car, but if he needed anything else, he’d come back by. He never came back. Ever. (She didn’t know it then, but he had been taking things out in small batches for weeks.) I didn’t meet my father until just before I started college.
Mom had no one to turn to that day. No one. Not even a close neighbor to talk to or “process” with. No good friends nearby. She wasn’t employed (yet), so there was no workplace friend. No family in town. No counselor she knew of, and no money to pay for one anyway. There was only the old black rotary telephone —except she couldn’t get her mother in Indiana to answer. So she just cried, alone, as she read and reread his note, looked at three boys under age three, and considered all that note meant for our future and hers.
My mom wasn’t the only one who has gone through that kind of devastating experience. Today the bomb could be a text: 280 characters or less shattering a family and future. However, for one woman who came into my office years after my mom got her letter, it was another a handwritten note from a husband.
Jada was sharp. Runway-model pretty. Immaculately dressed. With her when she came to see me were her two young children, looking just as sharp and well-mannered. Just as well-dressed. And just as sad as Jada. The girl, Alyssa, was around 12. The boy, Isaiah, was nine.
What brought Jada in wasn’t just the note. It was that her kids weren’t adjusting well. (Nor was she, but it was her kids’ melting down and their broken hearts that had moved her to seek counsel.) It was a different decade and a different city, but the note she got was similar to the one my mom received. Only Jada had kept her note. (My mom tore hers up.) It read:
Dear Jada,
We both know we’ve been drifting apart for a long time. And let’s face it, I don’t see you or anything between us changing one bit. You may as well know that I’ve been seeing another woman. Yes, we’ve been involved, and I really think I love her. I’m telling you all this because this is a small world. Somebody is bound to see us together, and I wanted to tell you before someone else did.
Jada, let’s make this as easy as we can on the children. It doesn’t have to be a big thing with the kids unless you want it to be. I don’t want to talk about this. We’ve never been able to talk.
All that there is to say is I don’t love you anymore, and I really wonder if I ever did. I’ve already had my attorney draw up the papers because I want a divorce —now.
I’ve got to go out of town on a business trip. I’ll be back in a few weeks and will come by to pick up some things and say hello to the kids. One more thing. I’ll be staying at an apartment I’ve rented until this is over.
James
That note revealed so much. Their struggles to communicate. The crushed dreams. The purposeful hurt. The denial of how hard it would be on both of them, but especially on the children. At the time Jada and the children had come to see me, several months had passed since James had left. Besides a few phone calls and a letter from a divorce attorney saying the papers were coming, she’d heard nothing from her husband.
She had repeatedly asked James to come to counseling with her. He’d refused. While she wasn’t ready to believe he didn’t love her and there was no hope, her biggest concern was for the kids.
How a Word Picture Can Help Deal with a Hurting Heart
The “picture” Cindy gave me of the unread book shows the power of an emotional word picture when sharing loving (if tough) correction. And two things happened in Jada’s family that illustrate two other key reasons you need to grab hold of this way of communicating.
One reason is that a word picture can go around someone’s defenses and help draw out difficult feelings. That’s what happened that day as I spoke with Jada and her children.
Jada explained first what was going on in her heart. The kids were right there. As a marriage and family counselor, there are times when having the whole family in the room is incredibly helpful, and this was one of those times. The kids were very supportive of their mother. They were also totally confused but trying to be brave, especially in front of a stranger.
Then it was time to talk to the children. Which, as you might imagine, can be a challenge. Try asking a hurt, scared, uncomfortable 12-year-old, “Okay, so how are you feeling today?” She’ll just look at you as if you have lobsters coming out of your ears. So, when I shifted to talk to Alyssa, I first set out on the coffee table in front of them about 20 different pictures.
I had cut the pictures out of various magazines. Some were pictures of animals. Others of things. Some were obviously happy pictures. Some sad. Sunrises. Sunsets. Random slices of life. But I had never had a child pick up the picture that Alyssa did.
“Alyssa,” I had instructed her, “I want you to look at all those pictures on the table for a minute. Take your time. But when you’re sure, I’d like you to pick up the picture, out of all of these, that seems the most like what’s going on with you.”
I sat back. Alyssa got off the couch and on her knees in front of the pictures. In a fairly short time, she picked up the photo of a submarine. It was a picture I’d cut from a Navy recruiting ad of a huge, black submarine shooting out of the water, like a giant fish leaping out of the ocean.
“Wow,” I said. “So, why’d you pick that picture?”
After a long pause, holding the picture in her hand, she said, “That’s how I feel. I feel like ever since Dad left, it’s like I’m in a submarine. I can put up the periscope and see things. See people on the land. But no one can see me.”
That word picture became the way, over the next three sessions we had together, to talk about how Alyssa felt about all that was going on —isolated and alone, able to see things but no one seeing her.
We talked about whether she felt there was anyone in the sub with her. Was Jesus next to her? Did the submarine ever come up for air? What would it take to get the submarine to come into port? And for her to come back out on dry land?
You’ll learn later in the book about “milking” word pictures. Meaning, once you share a word picture, it can become a therapeutic metaphor, a powerful way of processing hurt and pain. We spent weeks talking about submarines! And yet, what we were talking about —through the word picture —was her life. Her hurts. The hope she could have to get through all this.
That leads to the second reason you need to use emotional word pictures. Yes, you can share tough things with people to correct them or help them see and feel your heart. But you can also use word pictures to drain hurt from someone.
Unbeknownst to me, Alyssa was about to do something none of us expected. We had talked about word pictures. And she would soon write a word picture to her father that —even with his hardened-steel heart —was like a MOAB in breaking through to him and bringing him in to counseling!
Moving people to change. Processing hurt. Those are two great reasons to use a word picture. But breaking through even hardened hearts is something incredibly important about word pictures.
We’ll look later at several biblical examples of the way word pictures were used to soften hardened hearts. But one of the most dramatic examples I’ve ever seen was the one Alyssa sent to her father.
As I mentioned, Jada’s husband was adamant that he would never step into a counselor’s office. But one day, when he picked up the mail at his office, his stubborn heart met its match.
After a long, hectic day at work, James slowly scaled the two flights of stairs to the empty apartment that had once looked like freedom. He tossed aside yesterday’s paper that was draped across an overstuffed chair, then flopped down to catch his breath.
Pulling out his briefcase, he began thumbing through various envelopes that had come to his workplace. He usually read his mail at the office. However, because the day had been so demanding, this was his first chance to leaf through the stack of letters that begged to be read. James found the usual collection of brochures and bills, along with a few interesting-looking business letters proudly sporting their embossed corporate logos. Then his eyes caught sight of a personal letter —one with handwriting that looked like his wife’s. Peering closer, he saw it was actually from his daughter.
Through the years, James probably had been closer to Alyssa than to either his wife or his son. He’d always been frustrated by his wife’s “unrealistic” expectation that he spend more time with his family than at work. And even at nine years old, Isaiah was already too much like James. Seeing his son was like looking in the mirror, and James was uncomfortable with the reflection.
But it was different with Alyssa. When he talked to her, he didn’t hear an echo of his own unhappiness. Her self-confidence and independence were traits he could respect.
James opened the letter, expecting to find a card or note. But what he found was far different. Opening that letter was like opening the cargo door and seeing a MOAB roll out. Alyssa had written:
Dear Daddy,
It’s late at night, and I’m sitting in the middle of my bed writing to you. I’ve wanted to talk with you so many times during the past few weeks. But there never seems to be any time when we’re alone.
Dad, I realize you’re dating someone else. And I know you and Mom may never get back together. That’s terribly hard to accept —especially knowing that you may never come back home or be an “everyday” dad to me and Isaiah again. But at least I want you to understand what’s going on in our lives.
Don’t think that Mom asked me to write this. She didn’t. She doesn’t know I’m writing, and neither does Isaiah. I just want to share with you what I’ve been thinking.
Dad, I feel like our family has been riding in a nice car for a long time. You know, the kind you always like to have as a company car. It’s the kind that has every extra inside and not a scratch on the outside.
But over the years, the car has developed some problems. It’s smoking a lot, the wheels wobble, and the seat covers are ripped. The car’s been really hard to drive or ride in because of all the shaking and squeaking. But it’s still a great automobile —or at least it could be. With a little work, I know it could run for years.
Since we got the car, Isaiah and I have been in the backseat while you and Mom have been up front. We feel really secure with you driving and Mom beside you. But last month, Mom was at the wheel.
It was nighttime, and we had just turned the corner near our house. Suddenly, we all looked up and saw another car, out of control, heading straight for us. Mom tried to swerve out of the way, but the other car still smashed into us. The impact sent us flying off the road and crashing into a lamppost.
The thing is, Dad, just before being hit, we could see that you were driving the other car. And we saw something else: Sitting next to you was another woman.
It was such a terrible accident that we were all rushed to the emergency ward. But when we asked where you were, no one knew. We’re still not really sure where you are or if you were hurt or if you need help.
Mom was really hurt. She was thrown into the steering wheel and broke several ribs. One of them punctured her lungs and almost pierced her heart.
When the car wrecked, the back door smashed into Isaiah. He was covered with cuts from the broken glass, and he shattered his arm, which is now in a cast. But that’s not the worst. He’s still in so much pain and shock that he doesn’t want to talk or play with anyone.
As for me, I was thrown from the car. I was stuck out in the cold for a long time with my right leg broken. As I lay there, I couldn’t move and didn’t know what was wrong with Mom and Isaiah. I was hurting so much myself that I couldn’t help them.
There have been times since that night when I wondered if any of us would make it. Even though we’re getting a little better, we’re all still in the hospital. The doctors say I’ll need a lot of therapy on my leg, and I know they can help me get better. But I wish it was you who was helping me, instead of them.
The pain is so bad, but what’s even worse is that we all miss you so much. Every day we wait to see if you’re going to visit us in the hospital, and every day you don’t come. I know it’s over. But my heart would explode with joy if somehow I could look up and see you walk into my room.
At night when the hospital is really quiet, they push Isaiah and me into Mom’s room, and we all talk about you. We talk about how much we loved driving with you and how we wish you were with us now.
Are you all right? Are you hurting from the wreck? Do you need us like we need you? If you need me, I’m here and I love you.
Your daughter,
Alyssa
A week later, on a Friday night, Alyssa was at home with Isaiah and her mother. She could have gone to a high school football game with friends, but the choice had been easy. Nursing a broken heart, she just didn’t feel like cheering and laughing with others.
For several hours she sat in her room watching television, trying to get involved in an old movie. This was before social media, so there were no emails or texts to hold her attention. Finally, she gave up hiding from her loneliness and went downstairs to rustle up a snack. She wasn’t really hungry, but she thought a full stomach might somehow help to fill her empty heart.
She put her hand on the railing and slowly descended the stairs. But halfway down, something caught her attention and she looked up. Standing in the front doorway was her father. She hadn’t heard the doorbell and had no idea how long he’d been there.
Heartbeats were measured in hours as their eyes met. Alyssa felt that if she looked away, he would disappear.
“Daddy?” she finally said in a faltering voice, her heart leaping.
“Alyssa,” her father answered. Then, with emotion filling his voice, he asked, “How’s your leg, honey?”
“My leg?”
“I got your letter.”
“Oh . . . well, it hasn’t been doing too well.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you so badly, Alyssa. You don’t know how sorry I am,” he said, fighting to control his voice. “Your letter came when I didn’t know if I could ever return to the family. I felt I’d already gone too far from all of you to ever to come back and try again. But your story showed me how much pain I’d caused you all. And to be honest, it made me face the fact that I’d been pretty banged up myself.”
He looked at Alyssa and swallowed hard before continuing. “Is your mom upstairs? I’m not promising anything, but I think we need to get some counseling. There’s a lot we have to work out.”
His handwritten note had launched his entire family into deep, threatening waters. A second one —conveying an emotional word picture —had blown through his rock-hardened heart and started moving his marriage and family back toward solid ground.
While a word picture may not always carry such a dramatic and immediate impact, it can and did in this case. The result: Two days after James came home, he and Jada walked into my counseling office. And not long after, I had them bring in both kids for a session. There was much work to do. Lots of hurt and tears and pain and good and bad sessions. But praise the Lord, James would move home for good. Alyssa’s word picture, which proved to be a huge help during weeks of counseling sessions, served as our metaphor of healing and hope.
Much More Than a Story
How could sharing a single story bring so much change to someone’s life? Alyssa didn’t understand how or why a word picture worked with her father; she was just thankful it did. But as you’ll soon discover, five powerful forces are at work each time they’re used.
In the following pages, we’ll explore how and why this language of love is so effective. But first, let’s briefly define this communication tool.
A concise definition would read something like this:
An emotional word picture is a communication tool that uses a story or object to activate simultaneously the emotions and intellect of a person. In so doing, it causes the hearer to experience our words, not just hear them.
In short, this communication skill brings to life the thoughts we want to express. By looking through the pages of history and at current communication research, we find that the evidence is clear: Whenever we need to communicate important information, word pictures can multiply the impact of our message.
With this definition in mind, let’s put word pictures under the microscope and turn it up to full power. It’s time to look at just why they’re so powerful and have been in so many settings for so long.