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Iyanla Vanzant - Peace from Broken Pieces: How to Get Through What Youre Going Through

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Iyanla Vanzant Peace from Broken Pieces: How to Get Through What Youre Going Through
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New York Times best-selling author Iyanla Vanzant recounts the last decade of her life and the spiritual lessons learnedfrom the price of success during her meteoric rise as a TV celebrity on Oprah, the Iyanla TV show (produced by Barbara Walters), to the dissolution of her marriage and her daughters 15 months of illness and death on Christmas day. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, Iyanla shares why everything we need to learn is reflected in our relationships and the strength and wisdom she has gained by supporting others in their journeys to make sense out of the puzzle pieces of their lives.

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ALSO BY IYANLA VANZANT Tapping the Power Within A Path to Self-Empowerment - photo 1

ALSO BY IYANLA VANZANT

Tapping the Power Within:A Path to Self-Empowerment for Women920th Anniversary Edition

Acts of Faith

Faith in the Valley:Lessons for Women on the Journey to Peace

Every Day I Pray:Prayers for Awakening to the Grace of Inner Communion

In the Meantime

One Day My Soul Just Opened Up:40 Days and 40 Nights Toward Spiritual Strength and Personal Growth

Until Today Cards:A 50-Card Deck

Tips for Daily Living Cards:A 50-Card Deck

The Value in the Valley:A Black Womans Guide Through Lifes Dilemmas

Picture 2

Please visit the distributor of SmileyBooks:

Hay House USA: www.hayhouse.com
Hay House Australia: www.hayhouse.com.au
Hay House UK: www.hayhouse.co.uk
Hay House South Africa: www.hayhouse.co.za
Hay House India: www.hayhouse.co.in

Copyright 2010 by Iyanla Vanzant Published in the United States by - photo 3

Copyright 2010 by Iyanla Vanzant

Published in the United States by: SmileyBooks

Distributed in the United States by: Hay House, Inc.: www.hayhouse.com Published and distributed in Australia by: Hay House Australia Pty. Ltd.: www.hayhouse.com.au Published and distributedin the United Kingdom by: Hay House UK, Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.uk Published and distributed in the Republic of South Africa by: Hay House SA (Pty), Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.za Distributed in Canadaby: Raincoast: www.raincoast.com Published and Distributedin India by: Hay House Publishers India: www.hayhouse.com

Send inquiries to: SmileyBooks, 250 Park Avenue South, Suite 201, New York, NY 10003

Design: Nick C. Welch

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private useother than for fair use as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews without prior written permission of the publisher.

The opinions set forth herein are those of the author, and do not necessarily express the views of the publisher or Hay House, Inc., or any of its affiliates.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010933582

ISBN: 978-1-4019-2822-3
Digital ISBN: 978-1-4019-2859-9

13 12 11 10 4 3 2 1
1st edition, November 2010

Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to

Gemmia Lynnette Vanzant,
Omo Obatala,
OrisaSami,
and Niamoja Adilah Afi for her contribution
to the next seventeen generations of a healing love

CONTENTS

AUTHORS NOTE

This is a work of nonfiction.
Conversations have been reconstructed to the best of my recollection.

I found Jesus.

He was behind the sofa.

He said; Come near;

I get down and stay down.

I ll take care of everything.

So, I did.

And then, He did.

CHRISTMAS DAY

1:00A.M.

I had just nodded off when they arrived: My dearest friends from New York, Tulani and her husband Stan, had come to spend Christmas Day with us at Gemmias house. I was exhausted but excited about having guests for the holiday. After the last few days with Gemmia, I needed some comfort and support. My husband was sprawled across the living room sofa, fully dressed, with his shoes on. I wasnt sure where he had come from or when he had arrived. Like me, he was ecstatic to see our friends, our extended family. Tulani was like a sister who had helped me raise Gemmia. There are few things more comforting than having good, close friends with you when you are going through a difficult time.

After our greeting, with a lot of jumping up and down, kissing and hugging, we all went upstairs to Gemmias bedroom. Gemmia was down to 91 pounds now, but if Tulani was at all shocked at her appearance, she never let on. She and Gemmia stared into each others eyes like long-lost lovers. It was beautiful to see the love pass from one to the other. I was holding on to Stan because I knew he loved me as much as Tulani loved Gemmia. My husband just watched. I felt a twinge of sadness that he didnt love me like that, like Tulani loved Gemmia, but when I felt my heart sinking, I shook off that thought and squeezed Stans hand.

2:20A.M.

We sat around chatting, remembering the good ol days in Brooklyn, reminding each other who had married whom, left whom, and was now with whom. Gemmia was alert and very talkative between naps. When she was awake, the men excused themselves while Tulani helped me get her on and off the Porta-Potty. She really wanted to use the toilet, but in her condition, the bathroom door on the other side of her bedroom was just too far to go.

I really did understand. My exhaustion from the past week made it feel like I had lead bricks in my feet. My head, although it had not grown in size, felt as if it weighed 20, no, 50 pounds. It was only sheer determination holding it upright. I could not crumble! If I did, Gemmia would also. That was not acceptable! Not now. She seemed to be getting weak again. Perhaps she was hungry. No, she just wanted to lie down.

3:40A.M.

When I woke up, everyone else was still asleep. Tulani was curled up in Gemmias favorite chair in front of the window. My husband and Tulanis husband were curled up in opposite corners on the floor. I sat up on the corner of the bed where I too had been tightly curled. Gemmia was lying behind me. I checked to see if she was breathing. Dont be stupid! Of course shes breathing! This was Christmas Day. I told myself that she would be breathing all day long.

I wondered if my younger daughter Nisa had finished wrapping the childrens gifts. I tried to lift myself from the bed slowly so that I would not wake Gemmia. But as soon as I stood up she asked, Where you goin?

To see if the gifts are wrapped.

Okay, she said. Then, Dont go.

Dont go where? Dont go home? I tried not to sound alarmed, but everything she said set off bells and whistles in my mind. Im not going home, sweetie. Im going downstairs.

She was silent. Asleep again, perhaps. Then I heard a small sigh. Dont go. As gently as I could, I sat back on the bed. I waited to see if she would say anything else. She didnt.

6:17A.M.

When my son, Damon, came into the room, I realized that I had been asleep in a sitting position. What time are you opening the gifts? he asked.

As soon as the kids wake up. We dont have much because I never got to go shopping.

Ma, they dont care about that. They just want to be here, and they want their Auntie Gemmia to get better.

I knew he was right. But Christmas in our family had always been such a big deal, not so much for the presents as for the folks and the food. It was Gemmias favorite holiday, and she went all out to make sure the children and everyone else had a really good time. We stayed up all night wrapping gifts, drinking virgin pia coladas, and wishing we didnt have to cook. This year it was very different. There were a host of nieces, nephews, grandchildren, and the children of friends spread throughout the house, Gemmias daughter Niamoja among them. This was as it had always been. The difference was that we were not in my home as usual. We were at Gemmias house because we needed to be. I really tried to believe that everything and everyone was going to be okay.

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