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You repair all that we have torn apart and
You unveil a new beginning in our hearts and
We stand grateful for all that has been left behind and
All that goes before us

-Watermark, "Mended"

Broken toys are a common sight around here. A wheel missing here, an arm missing there. Shattered pieces of a play thing much loved and much abused often pepper the floor of the playroom. Woe to the unsuspecting parent that happens upon these land mines of play- feet cry out in pain as the Legos dig deep into flesh.
    It sounds familiar to this woman made of clay. Broken dreams, broken thoughts, broken pieces of life, much loved and much abused. Scattered like emotional land mines, upon which an unsuspecting loved one or friend happens upon, leaving scarred and wary of the path they walk with me.
    The broken moments happen in the midst of living life. A choice here, a choice there. A decision made. Then, unsuspecting, a shard catches, tears at the fabric of life, and I am left holding tatters and rags that barely semblance the life I led before. Gathered up with grief, I work at slowly stitching back together the fabric of my life. The stiches are odd, uneven, rough. Sometimes, there are gaping holes which I cannot repair. And eventually, I remember that I am not the tailor, and I take it to the One who is. The Master leans over His work, lovingly repairing the broken places with a deft hand, gentle and true.
    There is so much to be repaired. Prayers for restoration and forgiveness for years seem to go unanswered, a relationships falls into a black hole of disrepair that seems to have no resolution. And I despair. I despair of my foolishness, of my failings. The holes, rent and torn, seem to grow larger.
    Reconcilliation and forgiveness is an interesting process. At first, it is so painful, that the pain seems larger and fresher than it was during the first go-around. The gashes seem to grow till they nearly overcome. Like a seam ripper, it tears through the stitches of your life. The anger and hurt, the reasons for the gash in the first place surface, and it's all you can do to hold on through the pain. And then, the fabric starts to come together. The stitches fall, even and true, and grace abounds. Peace abounds. Memories of the good things fall like raindrops, salve upon the fresh stitches, healing, restoring.
    I don't know where it goes from here. This journey is fresh upon the path.  I am amazed that God could have restored something so broken and bereft. It is gift enough. 

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All things connected…

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Tell me what's on your heart~