Learn the art of broken pieces,
To mend broken cups, plates and pots,
Line it with lacquer mixed with gold.
Recognizing the history,
Repair but don’t disguise.
Embrace the damage,
For they are the fingerprints of its life.
Ceramic minds offer no insights,
It needs an iron hammer or just let it fall,
Now remove whatever is wrong.
The world will never forget your flaws,
Use them as armor,
And they can’t hurt you.
been listening to a story on our local – well, networked – Christian radio station – by an old author, as in written in the 1800s but still so timely today – even found a blog about her but not linking, not relevant to this – but do want to through this in; used to faithfully listen to these stories every day when my children were small then we got a new radio that looked, oh so cool, but just did not have the reception that our old one had – or was it the fact that we moved into our house about that time – but anyway for the past 10 yrs. have not been able to get – oh, I know, or I did learn at some point, I could turn on my faithful computer and get it anytime I wanted but you know I ‘ve learned it’s so easy that when you can do that, you tend to just not do it at all; anyway, we’ve now gotten another new radio – one I thought I would have loved to have had years ago but maybe there was a reason I didn’t but anyway I can now get my beloved radio story once again, so…
there’s a young child in the story so very tender to Jesus – pictures can be so important to young children and especially the picture of Jesus taking the young children unto him when his disciples were trying to brush them off – may we ever keep this lesson close to our hearts – as it was to this precious child at the feet of the young lady who was so burdened for the rest of this family while never giving this young child a thought until she was asked by her if she could come to Jesus as well – oh,my , how that pierced her soul as she realized herself that Jesus would indeed be calling the young ones to him as well and so helped lead her to Christ and rejoiced with her as she realized – He took me in – yes, indeed he took her in – however,
as we all know the devil’s not going to leave it at that, so…
as this ends and we move to join the rest of the family, or at least Mom and big sister, on a dreary, gloomy day just as the one is right now as I’m sitting here, which they couldn’t do, though they probably could have found something equivalent to do, just as I could probably be doing what they were and be in the kitchen, cleaning out my cupboards, putting in new paper or at least washing them, doing the, you know, taking everything out and putting it back or in a different, possibly better place, including…
soooo big sister’s on a – ladder? well, probably not, probably just on one of the kitchen chairs, putting things up in the high reaches of the corner cabinet, getting to put…
what is that? the family heirloom, the one piece of good dish, bowl, not really sure which, but you get the point – reminds me of Blue Willow – one dish – anyway, young girl who Jesus has just taken unto him, so eager now to be a help, picks up the dish – oh, my, but no…
Put that dish down! oh, can you feel it, but no, she doesn’t drop it; not that bad in that age of somewhat more self-control; she turns to put it back on the table where she got it, but as with so many things, so much easier to have gotten it down than to put it back; she’s not quite tall enough – oh, my, there it goes, oh how quickly things can happen – the once oh so precious heirloom, the one piece having been able to have been gotten, given? from the mother’s grandmother scattered in pieces on the floor – silence,
then who? sister stepping down from the chair – young lady, who’s the daughter-in-law? – someone gets the broom to begin to sweep up the pieces and do what? gather them up to put them back on the table to try to put them back together when –
No! throw them away! I cannot bear to look at them look like that! – what is that? if it can’t be perfect like before then not worth it at all – but, wait, remember it’s the only one? –
oh, Mother, can it not be mended? – oh, what heart-rending words – can we not be mended?
oh, didn’t we all need to be mended?
wasn’t it just so wonderful that our dear Saviour didn’t feel as we should just be thrown away? that because his wonderful perfect creation had gotten broken that we were just to be as nothing to him but instead was willing to mend us,
but then, possibly not just mend us, but use that mending to show that he had done so, not hide it as if to make it seem as if we’d never been broken but to show, to His glory, how the mending can make us even more beautiful – not in our own boasting but for Him – that before
I, too, have a dish, like that, that is an only one, that hub and I found at a shop long ago when one of our sons was just a bit younger than this young child that we bought and before we could get out of the store – he was a rambunctious little thing – he came running up, grabbing it out of his hand and, yes, before you could hardly know it, there it went – and hub had his way it probably, too, would have gone in the trash and been gone forever but I took it and brought it home, but because of that attitude – or maybe it was me, I hid it away and never did anything with it – but he brought it up the other day; he thought it was gone forever but I thought I’d kept it all this time so went searching – diligently – for it and sure enough, I found it, laid it out, fit the pieces back together – and now to put it back together again and see if we can make it a thing of beauty and joy after all –
I so hope to be able to be that myself