Debut Novelist Kimberly Duffy

I’m excited to introduce you to debut novelist Kimberly Duffy! Her first book, A Mosaic of Wings, released last month. I’m looking forward to reading this historical fiction set in late 19th century India! I decided to save it for after the big move with my daughter so I wouldn’t be distracted. Enough said. Now here’s Kimberly:

My husband broke our car in an effort to find his passport this winter. I didn’t realize it until a few weeks ago because he was able to jam it shut, but then the glove box door flipped open and smacked my knee.

I hate broken things.

They make me feel anxious, out of control, and I tend to obsess over them until they’re fixed.

Broken glove boxes, broken photo frames, broken furniture, broken relationships.

Broken people.

Not that I hate broken people, but I do want to fix them. To understand why they’re shattered. To figure out how to put them back together again. I like answers. Concrete and undeniable. This whole grey-space living? So uncomfortable.

My child has ADD…was it because I ate a vegan diet when I nursed her?

My friend is struggling with depression. Is there anything I can do to help her regain her balance?

My sibling is suffering from a trauma decades old. Why can she not find freedom?

I need to understand, God.

I have four decades of living in this broken, fractured, far-from-ideal world. Four decades of watching people stumble around, battered hearts held in scarred palms. Four decades of self-examination, trying to make sense of my own splintered soul.

Twenty years of living and loving a man whose own memories are stabbed by shards of abuse and neglect.

Lord, how do I heal his pain?

Four kids who have, no matter how much I’ve tried to make the best decisions—the right decisions—experienced pain and trial and struggle.

Lord, what have I done to cause this?

Years of watching friends whose lives are turned upside down by pornography, adultery, unfulfilled dreams, illness, and loss.

Lord, there must be SOMETHING I can do to fix this.

But there is nothing. It’s his pain. Their journey. Her decision.

And I’m beginning to see there’s a kind of bittersweet beauty in those empty spaces and broken places. Fixing them—piecing everything back together with glue and thread—isn’t meant to be the answer.

Because it’s in our brokenness that we yearn for eternity. It’s when we begin to crack and show signs of tension and stress that we recognize our need for salvation. It’s into those unanswered questions and grey spaces that God whispers.

By my stripes, you are healed.

In your weakness, my power is made perfect.

I am near the brokenhearted. The crushed in spirit.

I’ve been writing a long time and there are certain things you can expect from my books—a lush setting with descriptive passages inspired by teen years spent reading classic novels, a sprinkle of romance that builds slowly, and always, by design, characters who are tattered and broken.

Maybe it’s because they are the only type of people I’m actually able to fix. Or maybe it’s because I’m a little obsessed with all the grace that fills ugly, hopeless, empty places. But whatever the reason, I hope readers see the beauty of brokenness in my stories. And then consider that, perhaps, it’s not our job to patch everything up so that seams match and things work just so and all the answers are fleshed out and spilled in ink upon life’s pages.

Because there’s a God who is strong in our frailty. His stitches, his mending, his filling and repairing is all we can rely on. And even where it seems things are unrepairable—unanswerable—His grace is made sufficient.