the beauty of being broken.

I frantically looked down at the broken pieces in front of me. “What have I done?” I thought to myself. I immediately fell to the ground and began to pick up the pieces on the ground. I prayed to find a match to each piece so I could restore the vases to their original form. As I looked at the shattered pieces around me, I began to realize this task was much more daunting then I could have ever possibly imagined.

All I could think about was what was. The three beautiful vases that I had longed for all my life were gone. The realization that my hopes and dreams were completely broken hit me like a tornado. I could not help but begin to cry out for help. Somebody must know how to fix this. I mean I have seen other people do it before. I decided that I would start to ask around and gain insight into how my three beautiful vases could once again be restored. I went to several different shops and to my avail nothing seemed to work. Everyone had such a different opinion or option. Some just recommended buying a new vase and imagining as if the others never existed. Others told me to just be grateful that I had such a beautiful vase in the first place. I searched and searched for a “quick fix” but nothing seemed to really work. I wondered what I could do.

Ever since I was little, I had heard of a handy man of some sort who knew how to fix anything – you name it, he fixed it. I finally decided to go ask for his advice. As I took my 3 broken vases to him, I asked in a hopeless voice, “Can anything be done?”. He looked up at me and immediately began to take pieces from the different colored vases and piecing them together. “You are doing it all wrong!” I yelled. How could he not realize that my 3 vases were 3 separate vases of one solid color beforehand. I continued to try and tell him that he was doing it all wrong. He set down the pieces he had in his hand and then he turned to me and said, “I am the handy man. I know how to fix this but you need to trust me and follow my lead. Can you do that?”. I cautiously responded with a yes and began to help him bring the pieces together. At first, I took the pieces and brought them to the various shops for their advice on what was worth keeping and which ones were not. To me and the other shop owners, the most jagged pieces were those which I needed to dispose of. Before I could do so, the handy man came in and stopped me. He asked me to stop thinking about what the pieces once were but asked me to see them in a new light. He told me my one and only job was to find beauty in the pieces in front of me. He said the ruggedness of the piece is what made it worth refining. It was the process of refinement that truly made something beautiful. Once I found beauty in a piece, he asked me to hand it over to him and he would make some final touches. At first, I didn’t know what to look for. All I saw was glass scattered in front of me. He told me that after many years of experience he had developed a talent for such a task so he helped me for a little while. He helped me recognize the beauty of the curves in the glass and how each piece was unique in its own way. He helped me realize that when those shattered pieces were lifted up to the light, they had a way of shining even more beautifully and brightly than my 3 beautiful vases once did. The handy man could see what the other shop owners could not in my broken pieces.

So I began to offer up my broken pieces to the handy man. I was not really aware of what he was doing but I felt sure of his expertise. What he had taught me thus far was helping so could it really hurt?

I continued to search through the broken pieces. At times, I would pick up a piece and get cut. The blood started to gush out of my hand and I would have to take a break. I would go to another room and wash out the wound with soap and water. I made sure to dig deep so no shards of glass would be left behind to cause greater damage or infection later. Throughout this process, my hands became tougher. Not tougher in the sense that they became hard and incapable of feeling but rather that the glass shards no longer cut me. I could still feel the pressure of their sharp edges but they no longer were a threat to my sensitive and exposed skin. I was aware of their sharpness and avoided unnecessarily reopening my wounds. I still bare the scars from the deepest wounds but I know I took care of them properly. They no longer bring me pain as they once did. They are simply just reminders of the resistance and strength I gained over time through the cuts and wounds of the process.

I remember one day seeking out the handy man to share with him the most beautiful piece of glass I had ever found. It was so pure and the light shone through it significantly. I saw the curves and edges, what some would consider flaws, and I found its uniqueness as something to celebrate. The handy man smiled as I told him of my discovery. He then asked me to follow him. He walked me past his office and opened the door to where he had been working all this time. I looked up and beheld the most beautiful stained glass mural of my life. As I looked at each piece, I recognized my broken offerings. Each one had been refined in a way but their curves and edges still existed. Each piece for me portrayed the change in myself. Every single piece was a process and not an easy one. Many cuts were received and many wounds were reopened but the majesty of the assembly of the broken pieces together was truly worth it. He had taken those broken pieces of beauty and created something far greater than my 3 beautiful vases. It appeared to be a person in white but it was not complete. I asked when the rest of the mural would be completed. He looked at me and smiled. “You have an entire lifetime to bring those broken pieces to me. There will be times when you need to take a break. There will be times when you feel like there is nothing good to see in those pieces, but as you bring them to me – I will make each piece a part of your mural. That way others can see the beauty of the light through you.”

I found myself smiling for a moment only to instantly be shut down by the thought, “but what about when it is dark at night?” The man, seeming to know my thoughts, looked at me with great love and compassion in his eyes and said, ‘All this time you have called me the handy man but I am truly the Master. I am the Light. You have come to me during the darkest of nights. You have sought out the Light. Therefore, that Light has remained with you. As you have followed me, the Light has shone through you. It is inside of you. In the darkest of nights, you shine brighter than ever before. You show the way to those around you. Your light is my Light. It can overcome any darkness.”

I felt my heart fill with gratitude. I thought back to the girl laying on the floor and staring at the shards of glass around her. She felt hopeless. She was surrounded by darkness. She thought that she was the darkness. That maybe she did something wrong or maybe she wasn’t good enough. She thought that she would never feel happy again. I thought about what had made the difference and why things were different now. How could that girl be who I am today? The brokenness of each piece no longer made the pain of my loss come to my mind but rather the beauty of emotion and growth. The broken pieces hadn’t miraculously been placed back together in their original form but something much greater had happened. Obviously, my perspective had to change, I had to see each piece not as a broken fragment from the original but rather the piece to a new beginning, the piece to a new creation, the piece to a new me. The broken pieces were used as part of the Master’s masterpiece. The broken pieces were used to create something not just for myself but for the benefit of others. Each piece had a part in creating beauty through the Light. It was through the Light that I created my new self with the old fragments of my hopes and dreams. I rebuilt myself through the lens of the past by learning from it and looking forward to the brightness of the future ahead.

I can look back now and see the beauty of it all but being in the process is a whole other story. It was in no way easy. It was lonely and still is. I felt myself pull away from so many people I loved in fear of being seen in a negative light. I felt that no one really cared or even tried to understand where I was coming from. Even in sacred places, I felt that hope was dim to non-existent. It was when I decided to look to the light that things began to change. Not in an instant but in a slow yet continual process. I often reflect upon that night of feeling shattered and broken, although there are many I think of one in particular. The feelings of despair are still very clear and the reminder of darkness from that evening will never leave me, but just as that thought comes into my mind and tries to pull me back there, I look into the mirror at my eyes and see one thing: light.

And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not. - John 1:5

"People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within." - Elisabeth Kübler-Ross.