Broken

I love stained glass windows. They are so pretty with their different shapes and various colors. Even as a little girl, I was mesmerized by the way the light penetrated through the glass, casting the different colored hues on whatever was on the other side of the light.

My husband broke one of our plates the other day. When he revealed to me what he had done, he said, here, I thought you might like to put it back together. 

No! I want to break something! I want to watch something shatter just as my heart as been! Why didn't you let ME break it? You know how much I have been wanting to break something. 


After we had returned from Cincinnati, I saw my medication (the medication that was going to help my girls) and I went to the garage and got a hammer. I returned to the kitchen where my husband and daughter were and retrieved the bottle that contained the "magic" pills. My husband very gently asked me what I was doing. I informed him very matter-of-fact like that I was going to hammer the hell out of my medication until there was nothing left. Very calmly, he took the hammer from my hand and caught me as I fell into him and sobbed.

In the past, I would have gathered the broken pieces and tossed them in the trash but instead, I gathered them and laid them by the sink. Later that day, as I stood at the sink washing dishes, I thought as I looked at the brokenness, it can still be used.


That night, I laid all the broken pieces out on the counter, trying to figure out which pieces went together. I gave up in frustration. I contemplated throwing the pieces away but they remained on the counter.

For a week, the pieces, all broken, stared me down whenever I was by the sink. It can still be used.


Broken! Shattered! Some large pieces, some small. All of them having purpose.

I got out the glue and I went to work.

Pain doesn't always stop with the breaking. There is pain in the process of fixing. It continues with the mending.

In the process of repairing the broken plate, precise pressure was required. A lot of time needed for just two pieces to be sewn back together. After the pressure, came waiting. Time was needed for just those two pieces before anymore could be added.

I am broken. Shattered.

With the breaking and the broken and the fixing is a process and a purpose.

A stained glass window starts out with many pieces.

Some of those pieces have been uniquely cut by the maker. Others have been broken.

They are put together for the making of something beautiful.

The light shines through, and the beauty is to be held.

I am broken but I can still be used.

I'll leave the fixing to the Maker. I hope all the pieces are put together with His precise vision.

Let the Light shine through.

Stephanie