Yesterday I broke our coffee pot.
In and of itself, that's not too big of a deal.
But it was a big deal.
A really big deal.
I almost cried.
I don't drink coffee so the tears that threatened to come were not due to my sadness about our soon-to-be lack of coffee around the house.
I almost cried because right now it feels as though many, many things in life are broken.
Well, not only does it feel like it, but many things actually ARE broken.
Last month Ryan broke his foot. He's recovering nicely, but still needs to be careful about how much he's on it. He couldn't walk for a week. He couldn't drive for two weeks. He couldn't go up or down stairs or carry anything for many weeks. I didn't know a broken foot could be so hard...but it was.
Two of my favorite (and very meaningful) necklaces broke within a week of each other. How often does that happen?
The porch window broke two weeks ago.
Ryan got in a car accident last week and now that car is...you guessed it: broken. Very broken. We are now a one-car family.
And if you recall this post, many items broke during our first year of unemployment. Since then the dishwasher broke and the color printer won't print color.
Right now Ryan's career being broken seems like quite enough without all the other.
So when I broke the coffee pot, I had enough.
Enough of brokenness.
Enough Lord. Enough.
But in thinking about all the brokenness around us, I'm realizing that all this outward, external brokenness is just a small reflection of all the internal brokenness inside of me.
It's a lot easier to hide that brokenness. And when it's becoming apparent, I find myself working really hard to cover up the cracks, chips, dents, and broken pieces of my heart and life.
But then a waiting season comes. And waiting times often reveal the broken parts of our lives: our impatience, our immaturity, our need for control, our desire to know why, our selfishness, our jealousy, our unbelief.
If I'm going to cry, it certainly shouldn't be about the coffee pot or the appliances or even the car.
The tears should fall because I'm broken through and through and I'm desperately in need of God's grace to heal and restore every broken piece of me.
And once the tears have fallen, a smile tugs at my heart. Because there's beauty in our brokenness friends. We serve a God who is a binder of broken hearts and He's standing by, ready and waiting to use our brokenness to bring glory to Himself.