Like in a box... broken pieces

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Have you ever dropped a glass on the ground and watched it shatter into a 1,000 pieces? You grab the broom and do your best to sweep it up but then 1 day you are in the kitchen and you see a piece or you step on a piece? It could be a week, month, or even a year later and you’re still finding pieces of shattered glass on the ground that you never knew were there.

Let’s say you decided to take those broken pieces and glue them all back together. How long would it take you to fix it? What happens when you start putting the pieces back together and your missing those little shards of glass they you haven’t found yet?

What would that glass look like? With all it’s cracks and missing pieces all strung together.

Now imagine that’s your life, and it hasn’t been shattered just once but multiple times. How hard would it be to put it all back together? Would you ever be able to get it the way it was before? Would water leak out the holes when you fill it up?

Now imagine you’re rebuilding this glass and people come along and they see you and they say... omg that’s so ugly. What would you do? Did they see how beautiful the glass was before it broke? Are they willing to see the beauty of the glass once it’s put back together? Or will they only see a shattered glass that has crack and glue barely holding it together? How sensitive is that glass now? How easy would it be to break it again? You could probably break just by barely picking up.

What would you do if you walked by? What if you wanted to drink from that glass? Would you wait? Are some broken glasses worth waiting for? Or are they too broken? Are they too shattered, and ugly?

Life is like a shattered glass, we are all broken inside and some of us are missing more pieces that others. Some of us have tiny breaks and others are completely shattered and don’t even know where to start. Some us take all those broken pieces and go into a room and hide while we try and put it all back together. This room is dark, there’s barely any light. But we stay there and we try to do our best, our hands are bloody and cut because all of the pieces are slicing us deep. We lock ourselves inside because we feel safe, but we lonely and scared. We are hungry and tired, and barely have the strength to keep trying to fix the glass. We lock ourselves inside because we don’t want anyone to see how shattered our glass is, we don’t want people to walk by and see it, and say:

”that’s such an ugly glass, why would anyone want it?”

But, there’s beauty in that glass, somewhere. But it takes time to fix and sometimes it takes a lifetime.