Broken. In our house, we lose our minds when something breaks. Whether it’s a toy, a faucet, a torn page in a book… control freaks that we are, both the adolescent and adult variety, can’t handle the chaos and uncertainty of brokenness. And if someone we love breaks our prized possession? Oh, the consternation.
It’s embarrassing, really. The way we are wrapped up in the management of our stuff.
My heart breaks just a little some mornings when I want to quit the day before it’s hardly even started, as angry words are strewn about over a toy or a misplaced sock or some tiny injustice that matters greatly in the lives of these little boys.
I’m shocked at how quickly we turn on each other.
How quickly we forget that every good and perfect gift is from above.
Today, on this chilly spring morning, sunshine is streaming in our kitchen window, offering the hope of spring after a winter that seemed like it would never end.
It’s Good Friday.
The day our brokenness hung on the cross in the form of one man. Beaten. Humiliated. Crowned with thorns.
On this day, this one particular Friday, may you find hope and restoration for the broken places in your lives.
Want to join our favorite free writing exercise of the week? It’s easy and open to anyone.
1. Write for 5 minutes flat on the prompt: “Broken” with no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community.
Ready. Set. Go…
Photo credit for image of broken window: compfight