Pieces of my life
Scattered shards of broken glass
How can it be fixed?
When I was young I expected my life to grow like a tree. Branches growing out of another, always into new and more sophisticated diversity, with leaves all over, finally flowers, beautifully adorning the whole picture. Some beautiful manifestation of life. Picture perfect.
But that never happened. Looking back on my life it’s more like a broken stained-glass window. Colorful, yes, but disjointed. Things that began and then abruptly ended, sharp edges, things out of place, parts that could have been beautiful, if they hadn’t been broken. Blood smears from wounds the sharp edges caused. Does it show any picture at all?
Sure, we want that perfect, beautiful life. We try to built it, but too often life itself interferes, bruises us, cuts and breaks us, and leaves us wondering, what is all this for.
Nevertheless, my hope is that one day these shards will become a picture again, maybe not as beautiful ass we hoped, but maybe more meaningful: A stained-glass window, letting light shine through, telling my story.
Picture source: Pixabay CC0