After I published the book, I realized I had included these awesome pictures that came with awesome stories, but I didn't include the stories in the book. So years later I found myself wanting to share the stories. And in doing so, I was able to come to peace what this book is. I am a very different person than the one who compiled this book, but I am still thankful for the seasons of my life that led me to write the poetry found within this book.
Front and Back Cover Photos:
I went to New Orleans in the spring of 2006, just seven months after Hurricane Katrina swept through the southern states. I went with a team made up of individuals from across Canada. We were just one of many teams that helped in the aftermath of the hurricane with cleanup and rebuilding. I was there for the week right before Easter. 
It was during our drive through the Ninth Ward (the hardest hit area of the city), that I got these photos of a church building. We had stopped and went inside. A lot went through my head in those moments, but I remember one thing I said to one of my team members...
“It is just a building.”
There wasn’t anything special about this place that kept it from being destroyed by the flood. It wasn’t “God’s House”. It was in the path of the water and it got washed out... like the houses and like the businesses around it.
It was then that I had a connection with this abandoned church building. What impressed me was how together the outside looked and how washed out and dirty the inside was. I felt much the same a lot of the time. I was able to keep the outside together. Truth was... the inside was a mess.
So for the book, I decided to put the picture of the inside on the front cover and the outside picture on the back. When people pick up this book, The first thing they will see is the mess. After all... it is called Still Broken.
I saw this old abandoned baler in the town of Round Hill... not on a farmer’s back forty. It was parked in town. It seemed like an odd place to abandon an implement. Again... a lot went through my head when I took the picture. It seemed to fit into the whole story of brokenness... so it became the cover picture for Chapter One.
Clinton Wade Giesbrecht was just a toddler when he was found by his mom, face down floating in the dugout. He was a happy and high energy child. His mom had only taken her eyes off of him for a brief moment. One moment...she saw her boy playing contented in the sandbox, and the next he was in the water.
I was around twelve at the time of Clinton’s death. I sat in the back of the church during the funeral and cried. I felt grief at the loss of this little boy. He had just been over to our farm with his mom a week before and two of us were playing together. His death was an event I couldn’t wrap my head around... much like the poems that I share in this chapter.
Chapter 3: Still Prayer
The picture that opens up this chapter is of an outhouse that my friend built on her property. There is a poem in this chapter called “The Throne”.
“I go there often to be alone...”
Prayer is my alone time with the Creator. Prayer is my conversation... even when the words aren’t there. For me... prayer isn’t pre-chewed. It's meant to be spontaneous and honest and real and from the deepest part of my heart. Real prayer isn’t manufactured by professionals. Like the outhouse I pictured, prayer is original.
Now... I don't even call it prayer anymore. Years after publication of this book, the label has lost it's meaning to me. But what hasn't been lost is my connection and communication with the Creator... I just don't label it prayer.
Chapter 4: Still Worship
The cover photo for this chapter is of a chapel on the grounds of the Hastings Lake Bible Camp. (about a thirty minute drive east of Edmonton).
This one is harder for me to explain, because worship, for me, isn’t about buildings or programs anymore. Worship is much like prayer... it is a part of the relationship. Where prayer is the communication, worship is the action. Ironic through... both pictures in these chapters on prayer and worship are buildings.
I have been away from regular corporate involvement in church buildings since 2008. Worship, like prayer, has changed for me. It is no longer something defined by a culture and a system, but it is part of my connection with the Creator. When I wrote most of the poetry for this chapter, I was still part of the system and worship still included buildings, but even then, my heart was longing to break free of the cage of religion. Like the label prayer, the label worship has lost it's meaning. The best definition I have heard of worship, is this... "Worship is a life lived." I didn't understand that in it's entirety when I wrote the poems that are in this chapter.
On a side note: I had my book release party (June 20, 2009) in that chapel.
Chapter 5: Still Jesus
I open the Jesus chapter with my favourite wild flower... Indian Paintbrush. Growing up in the bush country of Northern British Columbia... we had Indian Paintbrush everywhere. It even grew on our farm in the back forty. It is strictly a wild flower. There is no taming this one. It grows where it wants to... and that is in the remoteness of creation, in bush land and in the mountain regions.
Where the paintbrush grows... that is where I go to get away from the human chaos and where I go to commune with the Creator. It only seemed appropriate that I have that flower open the chapter on Jesus. Jesus, like a wild flower, showed up where He wanted to. He was not restricted by buildings. He didn't play by the rules. He seemed to bloom outside of the manicured gardens of society. I guess that is the residual impression I still get of Jesus.
It's June 19, 2022... and I keep coming back to these picture explanations and have the need to edit my conclusions. I guess the rest of my blogs will paint the more accurate picture of where I am on this journey. But I needed to come back and put Jesus into the past tense. That was a bridge I crossed this spring. Maybe I can still find something of a wildflower in the story still... but now... it is just a story. I could continue to edit my thoughts... but maybe I will just leave the rest and let the continued journey speak for itself. I am not going to apologize for how I thought and felt and processed life anymore than I want to apologize for it now. This book was a special part of the journey... Even through I don't consider myself "Still Broken" anymore, I want to value the place it had in my journey.
Ruby (Voigt) Neumann
"Still Broken" author
(written May 2014, edited March 2019, and edited again July 25, 2021, and edited again June 21, 2022)
