that was all.
i opened up something that was closed and a blur of colour hurtled past my face and shattered in front of my feet.
i stood there for a moment, still.
we all did.
four pairs of eyes glued to the pieces that were no longer held together.
and i yelled for no one to move, because glass broken embeds deep.
and i grabbed the broom and started sweeping as i fought to keep the tears safe behind my eyes.
it was just a mug, and heaven knows we have more mugs than drinking glasses.
more than enough to hold the many cups of espresso consumed in a day,
but...
i still remember the sting of the air as i opened the door of that small town drug store.
as i wandered up and down the gift aisle trying to find the perfect one.
and i spotted 2 instead...
and i couldn't resist the green wrapped brown with ivy and the sweet little blue bird perched on the handle.
friday mornings found us meeting together, her and i and the small ones not in school and we would laugh as i'd pull it down, because she had one too and the more i drank from it, the more it came to represent a friendship that runs deep.
and in the miles that separate, in the mornings that are hard, it's this mug i pull down and pour my coffee into...
and now, it lay in a pile at my feet.
and i wonder at the pile that lay before His.
the one that He doesn't shy away from...
the one He bends over and collects up.
a brokenness that entered in at such a tender age and continued to crack and shatter through the years.
broken friendships, relationships, dreams and journeys,
collected in the Hands of the Almighty.
and i think of those 3 moments,
each one so unique and life-changing.
those moments when i lay exhausted and swollen and life was just one push away.
and i shattered even more.
and He says that children are an inheritance and this is what i'm learning,
brokenness embeds deep in the most painful of ways,
but only He can take the shattered and birth a mosaic of hope that can change the whole course of a life that was.
in the pile of broken pieces, the one that held comfort and memories and fit so perfectly in my hands on those mornings that saw more tears than smiles...
lay the bird, perched on the branch of the handle,
perfect and whole.
and someday,
someday,
i will stand before Him and everything that was broken will be beautiful,
and the mosaic that He made will be laid at His feet,
healed and whole.
