A little over 6 weeks ago, we were startled by the police at our door around midnight on September 9. All they told us was that our daughter had been in an accident and was taken to the hospital. We quickly dressed and headed there. Our 19-year old daughter had been critically injured. We spent the next 36 hours watching her slowly slip away due to serious brain injuries and head trauma. KC was just 19 years old. She was the mother of a beautiful 10-month old baby boy. My husband and I have 10 children, a blended family, yours, mine, and ours. The oldest is 25 down to the youngest at 6 years old. This loss has just devastated our family, but through it all Christ has been our strenght. So many people have asked how we can be so strong. Our answer is, by the grace of God. It is not in our own strength. We also answer that we have hope. We have the hope that we will see KC in heaven one day, as she made a decision in 5th grade to ask him into her heart. KC’s story does not end here. There was a young man driving the car that night who was drunk. He is also the father of KC’s child. She had decided to give him another chance just days before this accident occurred. They had been apart 7 months prior. We currently have custody of our grandson, but that is an ongoing battle with the father. All I can say, is that through all of these struggles and heartaches, God has blown us away with His love, grace, and mercy through other people and through just the right thing happening at just the right time. I don’t know how I would survive these days without my faith in God. My prayer is that God is using our testimony in the lives of others to make them stronger and to bless their hearts.

Almost 15 years ago, I gave birth to a precious little boy who entered our world ever so silently. We buried him 10 days later in my family cemetery. For years I walked away from God and the Church because of something that was said to me by our Pastor at the time. Fast forward 13 years and I met my husband, a wonderful, God Fearing/Loving man who showed me that I couldn’t judge God for something a Man said. It took me 13 years to lay my grief to rest, as I had held onto the anger and pain for so long looking to blame anyone and everyone for the loss of my son. However, the Pastor at the Church that he was attending at the time, said some very powerful words in a sermon that reminded me that even while I was grieving and angry with God for allowing a so called servant of his to say what he did, that God was grieving with me and for me. I started finding little messages in my daily reading that reminded me of this and it helped me reconcile with the Lord. When I first heard your song Stronger in the Broken Places, it reminded me so much of that time in my life where even when I didn’t want to see it, He was there by my side, helping me grieve, helping me heal. It will be 2 years next month since I met my husband, and he’s never left my side, helped me heal the hurt that I carried around for so long. While I will probably never fully trust any Preacher, thanks to what happened when my son was stillborn, I do understand more now that they are just Men and that the human side of does occasionally come out and that I can’t get angry with God for Man’s human mistakes. In so many ways, the Lord used my husband to make me Stronger in the Broken Places and I am so thankful for him. Come November 5th, instead of my usual ranting and raving at the heavens I will be remembering my son with joy, knowing that he sits in Heaven waiting for the day we will be reunited. Thank you Mark, for this song it’s truly one of the most beautiful songs I’ve heard in a long time and has such a powerful message.

I am 33, a junior in college. From the time I was 5-6 until I was 17 I was molested and raped on a regular basis by a trusted uncle. I dealt with this from the time I was 17 until I was 29 by cutting myself. I walked away from God. I wanted nothing to do with him. I called him everything that I could think of. Through the efforts of friends who were willing to love me regardless of what I said or did or how, I came back to Christ March 23rd 2006. I was still cutting, and gave this up December 1 2007. It has been nearly four years. I do not need to do that to myself anymore. This semester at college, God had really started knocking at my heart and pushing the forgiveness of my uncle.

I did not want to forgive him. I wore the hurt, shame, pain, bitterness and anger for so long that it became like a favorite sweater that you wear constantly. I didn’t want to open myself up to the vulnerability that forgiving him would bring. I had not realized that I was being angry at him out of a sense of duty. No one ever said that I had to be angry with him forever. And that’s what I had been doing. So I asked God to help me to forgive him. He started to take the coat that I had been wearing for so long off of me and opening me to the vulnerability but still carrying me in his gentle hands. I am forgiving my uncle for what he did little by little. Some days are better than others.

I am a better person now for not cutting any longer and for being able to relinquish control of the hurt to God. I am still broken, but the brokeness is being replaced by something far far greater and sweeter than I could ever imagine. I am able to use my experiences and talk to other people. I am able to be an example of what just a tiny seed of faith in Christ can do in someone’s life. He is making me stronger every day.

I have to say thank you so much for “Stronger in the Broken places”. It speaks to me in so many ways. Keep making music for as long as God puts the words in your heart.

Having grown up without a strong father in my life, satan used this void in my life to create emotional, psychological & spiritual confusion in my mind, heart, soul, & spirit. Thanks to my mom who made sure her children went to church every Sunday, I accepted Jesus as my Savior at the age of 8, but it wasn’t until I was 25 that I began to trust Him with Lordship of my life. It was also at that age I discovered the keeping, enabling, comforting power of the baptism of Holy Spirit, and my began to move in a more settled, God-ordained direction. But it wasn’t until I was 45 years old that I discovered the final piece to the puzzle of my true inward identity. That is when I truly learned & understood who I am in Christ & Who He is in me, where I have come from, why I am here & where I am going. Finally, I knew Who my DADDY is, was, always has been, &always will be. I found my place in His arms, His family, His home. I have never left.

This Sunday will be ten years since I have held my son’s face in my hands. Ten years since I have heard the words “I love you,Mom”. Matthew died in a car accident while he was home on leave. he was a Marine stationed at Camp Lajeune,N.C. I can’t even begin to describe how a broken place can take you to the darkest days. But our GOD was with me and my husband. He brought us through to the other side. I am grateful my Matthew did not die in a war far away from home. We had spent time with him before his accident happened. He was able to visit his grandparents and bond with his sister Melissa. God gave him to us for nineteen years and we had no regrets looking back. We were family and we worked,played and worshipped together. Without God in my life my time would be spent grieving still. For those of you mourning the death of your child–just reach out and HE will be beside you and sharing your pain. When all else fails just pray.

I found myself lying in the bed crying with my wife who was hemmoraghing a week after giving birth to a 10lb cleft palate/ Pierre-Robin little baby boy. He choked on his tongue which was silent and life-threatening and now here, a week after birth, my wife is being told that if this doesn’t stop, it could kill her. On top of all that, I had left my full time job to start a ministry to help the church care for orphans more strategically. Now, everything was on hold. It was the most difficult year of our lives. No comparison. I remember not dreaming for about 7 months because our sleep was so deprived and inconsistent. Our son went through so many tests and then surgery. We’ve gone from feeding him to a syringe to now seeing him walk and now try to talk as a 14 month old. He’s happy, beautiful and we are so proud of him. From all that my wife and I have been through, we look at him as a champion for what he has gone through. And, now the ministry is back on track and getting some traction. We thank God for His provision in our lives and for songs like yours that REALLY ministers to us in such a deep place. Thanks Mark. http://www.patchourplanet.org

I am an attorney with my own practice. I also attended several years of seminary earlier in life. However, I do not attend church. However, because of my education, I know more about the Bible and the history of western civilization that 99% of folks out there. I do not attend church because I have seen the hypocrisy of the “church” within my own family. Let me explain. My sister Lory Leacock and her husband Rob Leacock have used the church to hide behind for over 20 years. Her husband is a bookkeeper of sorts so he gets jobs at very large Assembly of God churches as the money person. His last job was in Fort Worth, Texas. He has always been greedy with money. He does not spend a time. In fact, he has always had other people pay for things for him. He uses the church to take extensive vacations to Europe, to travel, to pay for his cel phone, everything. Well, we are now in our 50s: my sister, my older brother and me. My brother and I have our own businesses and do not go to church or approve of how my sister and her husband run their lives by using the church. My mother has been in an Alzheimer’s center for the past five years, and has done quite well there. She does not have Alzheimer’s, simply dementia and diabetes. Before she was put into the very nice Alzheimer’s center, it took me years to get my father to realize that he could not take care of her. He was stubborn and refused to get her help until it was almost too late. My husband encouraged my dad to sell their ranch in Livingston, California at a time when the market was high, so they were able to sell it and move to Texas and put Mom in a first class Alzheimer’s center. Dad then moved he and Mom near to my sister and her husband in Fort Worth, Texas because my family was originally from Texas and they felt it was a cheaper, safer place to settle. This Alzheimer’s center cost a minimum of $5,000 a month, which my father could easily afford. However, my brother-in-law did not like spending the money each month; in fact, he had earlier had an irrevocable trust set up for my parents locking in he and Lory with complete power of attorney over my parents. This was a very selfish and greedy act as you shall see. This past January, I discovered that my sister’s husband wanted to move to Fiji to “retire” because he was tired of “working.” He also wanted to save the $5,000 a month that he felt was his own money that my Dad was spending to keep Mom in the Alzheimer’s center. He told me he was going to take both of my parents to Fiji to live in a compound; that he was taking his own dad (who was selling his trailer in Clear Lake, CA) too. They would all buy property and live in a compound. He said that Mom would be taken care of at home by a Fijian girl. I told him point blank that he would not take my parents out of the country; that he would not be allowed to take my mother out of a first class Alzheimer’s center where all of her needs were being met, and to take her to a third world country with inadequate daily care and medical care. Further, that my father was not physically able to live in a third world country. My brother-in-law’s main motive, and he told this to me, was to save money: Dad’s money that he believed was his own. Apparently, my sister and her husband have been using my parents’ bank account as an ATM machine, supporting their lives so that my brother-in-law will not have to work very hard. My sister and her husband also lied to me about their travel to Europe–saying it was their entire personal trip, when in fact it was a church-sponsored trip for elders: again, using the church and then lying to family about what the trip was for and who paid for it. This January, when I was in Fort Worth, Texas, I then told my sister and her husband that I would not allow them to take my parents out of the country into a third world country. THREE WEEKS later, I got a cryptic call from my Dad the week before Superbowl Sunday that there was something wrong with my mom, and that my sister Lory would contact me the next day. My sister Lory then sent me a longwinded email about the storm in Fort Worth and how bad the ice was, and that Mom was in the hospital. Lory did not say what the problem was with Mom. She failed entirely to state any kind of diagnosis by the doctor. She failed to say that she had already placed Mom into hospice. I immediately called everyone in my family: My Dad, Lory, my brother Steve Carroll, and the hospice person attending to my mom. No one had any answers regarding my mom’s medical condition. I asked my sister Lory when she had placed Mom into hospice. She refused to tell me when. I asked her what the doctor had said. She refused to tell me. I asked her what Mom’s medical condition was, what the diagnosis was, what tests were run, what medical treatment had been performed and failed to have Mom placed into hospice. She refused to tell me. She said that the weather had made communications hard to talk to the doctor. She then said, and this is an exact quote, “I am uncomfortable talking to you about this.” She then hung up the phone on me. This is the last civil word I ever received from my sister. I was stunned with disbelief. I immediately called Mom’s treating doctor in Fort Worth, Texas. He called me back in one-half hour on my cel phone. My husband, a Ph.D., and I then had a conference call on the cel phone (speaker phone) with Mom’s doctor. He told us–point blank–that Mom had a fever on that previous Monday (it was now Friday afternoon), and that he had wanted to prescribe Mom antibiotics. He said that my sister, Lory Leacock, REFUSED TO ALLOW MY MOTHER TO RECEIVE ANTIBIOTICS, instead placing her into hospice on Monday. The doctor said that a fever is all Mom had, and that in his opinion, that the plug had been pulled on Mom too early. That her life had been terminated too early. Prematurely. He said that it was done prematurely. He told us this several times. He said that he had no choice in the matter because my sister had power of attorney. We told the doctor that my family would not speak to me, would not give us any information, would not give us anything other than hang up the phone on us. The doctor told us that at this time the family should be talking. We agreed but said that we had no choice but to call him. By this time, and it was Friday afternoon, my Mother had been denied all hydration (water), medication and food for FOUR SOLID DAYS. All she had was a fever on Monday, yet Lory denied Mom basic antibiotics medications that would have saved her life. THat would have prolonged her life. There was no reason on Earth to deny my Mother medical treatment other than the fact that Lory and Rob Leacock had already made up their minds to “retire” to Fiji on Mom and Dad’s money, and they wanted to kill off Mom so that they would not have to spend $5,000 a month to take care of her. Further, they wanted to get Dad to Fiji so that they could control him, his finances, and ultimately take his life. This is as ugly as it gets folks. If it had not happened I would not have believed it myself. It is horrible. On that Friday, I begged the doctor to get my Mother medical treatment. I told him that I was an attorney and that I would not allow my sister to end my Mother’s life prematurely. The doctor told us his hands were tied. My husband, Ray Haring, and I then arranged flights to Fort Worth. That evening, we discovered that after our telephone call with the doctor, that he literally pulled my mother out of hospice and placed her into the hospital so that she could receive hydration and medical care. Tests were then run, although to this date we do not know the tests that were run or the detailed results of those tests. We flew to Fort Worth the next morning, which was the Saturday before Superbowl Sunday in January 2011. We went directly to Mom’s hospital bed. When we arrived, we were treated with abject hostility and venom my my “family.” My Dad cursed me out; said I was “interrupting”; my sister was completely hostile, would not allow me to hug her. It was awful awful awful. They hated that we even arrived. They held us responsible for the doctor placing Mom back into the hospital for medical treatment and care. It was horrific. Since it was so hostile, we agreed to stay with Mom separately. Ray and I were able to spend some wonderful, wonderful hours with Mom and talk to her and love her and take care of her. She was able to communicate. She could speak, if ever so, so light and slight. She could feel, she could love, she could speak–very, very lightly–almost a mumble. We then from the nursing staff that my sister had again pulled my mom out of the hospital and had placed her back into hospice care. No one from my family told us why they placed Mom back into hospice. We followed the ambulance as they took Mom back to the Alzheimer’s center. We stayed with her and brought all her flowers into her room. By now it was Sunday evening. We then left so that Lory could spend time with Mom. The next morning (Monday), we got a call that it was Mom’s last moments. We rushed to the Alzheimer’s center to be with Mom. The hospice person was in the room, literally doing business by Mom’s bed. The family was there. There was not one bible. No flowers. No pastor. No music. No bible reading. Nothing. NO tears. Nothing. It was all antiseptic and impersonal. They had waited so long to be able to have Mom die. Nothing was going to get in their way. Nothing. It was that impersonal. I was destroyed. I had brought my childhood bible with me and tried to read Psalm 23. I couldn’t, so I asked Rob to read it. He read it. That was it. I had brought Roses with me. My Mom then passed away while I was crying on her chest. I then placed Roses on my Mom’s body–a last homage to her. She loved flowers as much as I do. In fact, in our family, I am most like my mom, we share the same name: Gay Carroll. The same doctor that delivered her delivered me. Our personalities are almost exact duplicates. We are the same. I am her. She is me. And my family could not wait to kill her. And they did. They played God with how they ended her life. They were God in their own minds. They wanted Mom to die so they could leave the country with Dad’s money and control of Dad. Rob has always been this way. Always. I was livid. I was broken. I am still broken. I could not look at them or speak to them. They had successfully murdered my mother. And they had done it–as they had lived their entire lives–by hiding like hypocrites behind the church. Horrific. Horrible. Evil. Greed. Selfishness. Hypocrites. Evil people. I was going to leave Fort Worth, never to see these people again, but my husband talked me into staying for the funeral. We left Fort Worth because I could not abide to be near those people who had just killed my Mother. We stayed in Dallas for a week. I became very, very ill with a cold and flu. When we went to the “funeral,” it was at an old cemetery in the country between Fort Worth and Dallas. Ray and I drove separately. We watched the herse come and place my Mom’s cheap casket at her grave site. One half hour later the limousine pulled up with my family in it. They had been celebrating on the drive. They were literally partying in the limo. When they got out, they offered me food and drink, saying that we should party. I refused. I had laid about 100 roses on Mom’s casket because there was absolutely nothing there. No flowers from the family. Nothing. I kept waiting for a minister to arrive. No one came. Rob then took over the event stating that everyone needed to tell stories about Mom. At that point I literally backed away because I could not abide the very evil person who had murdered my Mother taking over her grave site service. It was not a service. There was no music. No prayers. No scripture reading. Nothing. Just jokes and laughs. I walked away. Sick to my stomach. The murderers were partying at my Mother’s grave site. Literally partying and joking. They then decided it was time to leave and got back into the limo so they could party all the way back to Fort Worth. I then stayed with my Mom at her grave site and stayed with her as the dirt was thrown over her casket. We watched her casket as it was lowered into the ground and covered up by the tractor. We stayed and watched and cried and cried and cried. Apparently, there was some sort of congratulatory “service” at Rob and Lory Leacock’s “church” in Forth Worth that I could not abide to be at–otherwise, I would have screamed and screamed and made a huge, huge scene. I cannot abide hypocrites or murderers. And my Mother had been murdered.

I then asked for my Mom’s medical records from my Dad. He refused. He lied to me about the reasons. And I called him on it. I now decide: do I sue my own family for wrongful death of my Mother? Do I sue the medical doctor for malpractice? I wrestle with this. I am sick with grief for my Mother. I am ill with the knowledge that my own family murdered my mother. That my own family members are greedy and hypocrites. It is horrible. I have to know the truth. I have to be able to rest at night, knowing the truth. And testing these family members to have to be accountable. I believe that they always knew that what they did was wrong, this is why, I believe, they refused to speak with me. This is why they each hung up the phone on me.

My husband, Ray, and I lost Ray’s Mom in September 2010. We went through a very long and painful time with her in the hospital. Ray had power of attorney over his mother. He tried everything humanly possible to keep Tommie alive. She was happy and full of love. We had many wonderful years with her. We know how this works. We know the pain of love and the pain of losing a loved one and having to make hard choices at hard times. But we also know the difference between trying everything humanly possible and then realizing that to do anything more is cruel. This did not happen with my Mother. She was denied medical care intentionally by my family out of one reason: greed.

A family has been shattered. I am shattered by this. I will never, ever, every speak with anyone of them. That day at the cemetery I died to my own family. They lost me with they murdered my other Mother.

It truly speaks to our hearts, it is true for many like myself who have certainly experienced “beauty in the suffering” and believe that through all this “He is making me.” Thank you Jesus. Lovely song.

Hey, Mark! Pretty sure you were a student at Lee College when my husband and I attended in the early 80s!

Anyway, thanks for sharing “Stronger in the Broken Places”. In August, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Thankfully, it was benign, but it was in a bad place and wrecking some havoc. After a ten hour surgery on October 7, I am recovering well and living gratefully. Sadly, my family has sung in local churches & venues for many years, but my vocal chords are not yet back to full capacity and I have lost the hearing in one ear. I trust God in that if one avenue of ministry has closed (music), He will open another for a new season, making me “stronger” in my “broken place”!

Also, in 2007, my then-20 year old daughter was involved in a head-on auto collision. She had a ten percent chance of living, but God beautifully restored her to full health. She is a living miracle! She has sung the Ashlee Simpson song, “Beautifully Broken”, and another daughter has sung Linsdsey Haun’s “Broken” to celebrate this healing. I am thrilled to add your song, “Stronger in the Broken Places”, to our list of celebratory songs!

Two of our daughters attend Lee University, one a junior communications major, and the other a December 2012 graduate with her Master’s Degree in Mental Health Counseling. A third daughter (the one mentioned above) lives in Nashville. We still call Iowa home and reside here with our sixteen-year-old son.

Blessings!

Melissa (James) Doll

Mark, you have managed to reach into the depths of souls that have been molded and re-molded by The Creator, Himself. 2 years ago we were pregnant with our third child. At age 41, it was a bit of a shock since their other children were 14 and 11 at the time. During a routine ultrasound, doctors discovered the baby had had a stroke in utero causing damage to his left cerebellum. We were given the option to terminate the pregnancy, but The Lord found a way for me to hear what I needed to: what if Mary had said “no” to what He’d asked her to do? We were told the baby may not breathe on his own, or sit up or swallow or walk…etc. I have never prayed so fervently as I did for The Lord to spare this child. Samuel Noah will turn 2 in April. He runs circles around the rest of us! Miracles are God’s specialties. Then last February my husband of 21 years was diagnosed with stage 4 head and neck cancer. Never a smoker or a drinker – but a perfectly healthy military pilot. He went through major neck dissection as the cancer had spread from his tonsil to the lymph nodes in his neck. He underwent 40 radiation treatments to his throat (we kept him alive through a feeding tube as he had 3rd degree burns to his throat) and had concurrent chemo which brought him to the brink of death. But God had a plan and He used cancer to make my husband and our entire family stronger in that broken place. I used to close my eyes and listen to Jesus tell me that I had no need to fear the storms, because I was with Him. I put complete faith and trust in God, knowing that He had a plan for our little family and that no matter what it was, He would give me the strength to face it. And therein lies miracle #2….a husband in remission, in the best physical shape of his adult life, ready to take on an incredible new command in our country’s military. We are certainly stronger BECAUSE OF the broken places. I thank you for putting so beautifully into lyrics and music what so many of us need to hear. Don’t fear the trials- embrace them and know that you are going to feel closer to God with each one. He shows His most powerful mercy when we are at our weakest and submit to His will. Like you said, ” when you are empty, fall into the arms of God allowing Him to pick you up, mend you and make younstronger