Broken Things

I don’t keep broken things. Chipped dishes, torn blankets, a picture frame with a crack in the corner. Maybe it’s because so much in life is broken beyond repair and throwing these items away gives me the illusion of control over my environment. So when I was washing my dishes the other night and accidentally knocked this little angel off the windowsill and broke off one of her wings, my first impulse was to throw her in the garbage can. I felt bad, because she is as cute as can be, but I only paid a couple of dollars for her and even though things can be glued, they are never quite the same.

I went back to my task of washing dishes, but as I contemplated the bigger picture, I had a bit of an epiphany. Life can be messy and hard. Things break. Dreams. Hearts. Wings. But even in my brokenness, actually because of my brokenness, I have hope. Because it seems like it is the times when I have been at my weakest, that God’s power and strength and mercy were revealed in my life.

I finished my dishes, dug the little angel out of the garbage can, washed off the coffee grounds, and set her back on the windowsill, along with her broken wing, to serve as a reminder.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3