One evening while preparing dinner, my lively 3-year-old son, Max, was bouncing around the kitchen, lost in his own little melody. Suddenly, he stopped, narrowing his eyes at the refrigerator. His gaze was fixated on a drawing he had made, proudly displayed with a vibrant magnet crafted in art class. This magnet was a symbol of his creativity, a gift for his father.
In an instant, I watched as he tugged at the picture, eager to reach for his beloved magnet. Before I could intervene, it slipped free, crashing to the floor and resulting in a shattered piece of the snowflake. Max was inconsolable. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he instinctively turned to me, pleading for help to mend what was broken.
As mothers, we often enter caretaker mode without hesitation. We fix everything from scraped knees to lost toys. To our children, we embody the role of healers, protectors, and the ultimate problem-solvers. I turned to examine the damage, already contemplating where I had stashed the hot glue gun to restore his creation. Upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn’t just a small chip; it was in pieces. I enveloped him in a comforting hug and gently said, “Buddy, it’s broken, and I don’t think I can fix it.”
In that moment, I could see his young mind grappling with the concept of irreparable loss. It was a big ask for someone so small, and for once, I completely resonated with his distress. You see, understanding a toddler’s perspective can be a challenge. They often request the impossible, like asking you to slice their sandwich in a specific shape while balancing a fruit on your head. But this time was different. How could something so precious to him be beyond repair?
This revelation struck a chord within me. I’ve wrestled with the notion of brokenness—not in trivial matters, but in the grand scheme of life, particularly with my own feelings of inadequacy. Before this moment, I would have described my struggles as “bending significantly,” but admitting to being broken felt like acknowledging weakness.
However, I now embrace this truth: I am, in fact, broken. What caused this fracture? For me, it was the loss of my father. It wasn’t merely the final farewell I shared with him, but the daily heartache of witnessing him fade away, losing bits of his vibrancy day by day. In joyous moments, when my children laugh and play, I find myself thinking, “Oh, Dad would have cherished this.” That thought brings a wave of sadness.
We all have our own sources of brokenness. Whether it’s the small things that wear us down or the heavy burdens that crush us, we all carry pieces of ourselves that feel fractured. I can’t speak to your experience, but I want to share this: recognizing our brokenness is the first step towards healing. I once came across a beautiful Japanese tradition of repairing shattered ceramics with lacquer infused with gold. This practice encourages us to honor the object’s history and highlights its repairs, making the flaws a part of its beauty. What if we adopted this philosophy for ourselves?
As mothers, we strive to shield our children from life’s harsh realities, hoping for calm seas and favorable winds as they navigate their journeys. I still wish for that for Max, but like my shattered magnet, I also want him to understand that life can be tough.
After sweeping up the remnants of the broken piece, I placed the remaining magnet back on the fridge and said, “Look, it still works. It holds your picture just fine. In fact, now we can see a little more of the beautiful artwork behind it.”
My hope for you, dear Max, is that when life challenges you, it becomes a chance for even more brilliance to shine through. I pray you always choose that path, for the world certainly needs more light to illuminate the cracks of our brokenness.
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In summary, brokenness is a universal experience that can lead to profound growth. Embracing our imperfections allows us to see beauty in our flaws and helps us to mend in ways we never thought possible.
Keyphrase: Understanding Brokenness
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