Sometimes All The Pieces Seem Broken...

One small move and a table is knocked over.  A glass is broken.  Purple liquid drips down the wall.  Stains the carpet.  Shining shards glare it too.

And she says, "I've had a bad couple of days.  Nothing is going right."

So I pick up a rag, bend a knee, begin to blot.

And listen to tones of disappointment.  Irritation.  Frustration. Heart breaking.

Small things seem monumental sometimes.  One stacks on top of the other and the whole heap topples on us.  And as we blot together and my heart hurts for her, my sweet almost two-year-old toddles up to wrap arms around that neck bent to the carpet.

Doesn't God touch us in those moments?  To take sweet fingers of love and touch a woman broken and saddened.  But do we see Him there?  Can we look away from us, our hurt, our broken pieces, and see that he can make them beautiful?  Whole again?  Not just glue them together, but make them new?

Friends get sick, loved ones leave, love drifts away, sister pass, family moves on...but He is unchanging.  His hand always mending.  His love for us unending.  So much love that it is the death of His son and the resurrection of that life that makes us whole again.  Nothing but His blood.

Little fingers learning how to love, husbands offering comfort, friends taking time, moments of peaceful quiet, a job in a seemingly jobless place...don't they offer a glimpse of His love for us?  His care?  His mending the broken pieces?  Those are the pieces that bring hope.  That lead us through one day, then the next, and the toppled heap is lifted by the only hands strong enough to carry it all.  We just have to see Him.  Open our eyes. He is there.

Oh Lord, open the eyes of the hurting.  For those that know you to fall into you and find peace. For those that don't to be brought to a place of longing for the only One that can soothe their own soul and bring hope to a darkened life.