Shards of Brokenness

I cried as a bit of my heart broke itself.  For a small reason, really.  I had a choice at that moment to get upset.  To lash out at the person (who, by the way was not my husband) responsible for the brokenness.  I was still contemplating what to do.  Pondering what my next move should be.  Should I respond with rudeness?  Let this person know that I was angry?  The pieces of my heart fell into puddles of hurt and confusion.  "I have a right to give this person a piece of my mind."  "The nerve of this one!  Someone needs to set this person straight."  With the thoughts, the puddles grew deeper.

Then, came a new commotion.  With three little ones in this house, there's always a bit of commotion. This time it was a crash, followed by a "Mommy, we need to tell you something," and the admission of a surprise gone awry.  The shards of a glass bowl from my favorite set of dishes laid on the kitchen floor...mixed among puddles of milk and cheerios.  Four sparkling eyes looked up at me.  They sparkled not from tears - no, there were no tears - but from the exuberance of life.  As I rushed the owners of those beautiful happy eyes out of the kitchen, I kissed the tops of their little heads.  They smiled.  I smiled. I looked at my joyful children - who just wanted to surprise Mommy and Daddy with breakfast for our anniversary - and tears of gratitude began to fall.  Tears that know that a bowl that can be replaced is far less important than the little hearts that my husband and I work hard to turn towards Him.  Tears that were thankful that my babes know that they don't have to cry, they don't have to be ashamed, they don't have to feel guilt over breaking a silly little thing, because things are just that...things.  Tears that fell because even though I get so much of parenting wrong, my children's hearts trust me...know me...don't fear me...at least not over "stuff." Tears that knew that the only reason I got it right this time is because of Christ working in my life.  I can show the love of Jesus to them because He so willingly shows it to me.

As I swept up the broken pieces of a once beautiful bowl, I examined my heart over the "other" situation.  Will having my say make anything better?  Will it help me?  Will it point this person to Jesus?  Will I show the love of Jesus? Should I run to the person who will only make me feel more shame in my reaction, or should I run to the One who I know will help?

I pondered as I went and hugged little necks.  "Thank you,"  I said.  "Thank you for wanting to surprise us, and thank you for getting me and not trying to clean up that mess.  It could have really hurt you if you tried." Those two, they hugged me right back and a bunch of "I love you's" were said.

And, boom...there it was.  If I try to clean up this issue, I will only make things worse.  So, I took my brokenness to the Giver of life...the One who can pick up the pieces and clean up the mess with skill.  A skill I will always lack.  I resolved to let Him work on my heart and mind.  To let Him handle this situation.  It's not easy.  I've had to re-resolve several times just in the course of a few hours, but that's OK.  Each time I hold those thoughts captive and hand them over to Him, I know He looks at His child and smiles.  I imagine He might even be saying to me, "Thank you.  Thank you for not trying to clean up that mess."

As children bring their broken toys
With tears for us to mend.
I brought my broken dreams to God
Because He was my Friend.

But then instead of leaving Him
In peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help
With ways that were my own.

At last I snatched the back and cried,
"How could You be so slow"-
"My child," He said,
"What could I do? You never did let go."

 Author: Unknown