I would accept help but I insisted I didn’t need it…we didn’t need it – well that is a lie – I wouldn’t even always accept it – denying I needed help, assuring everyone I was “fine”…because after all – I was strong.
Oh that magical word – fine.
“I am fine”…what does fine mean anyway?
It means when someone tells you they are “fine” they more than likely are by no means “fine.”
I believed if I told the world I was fine then somewhere in me, I had to be “fine” – right?
I have been looking at my calendar from these past 6 months – I was so far away from “fine.” If fine was a 3 on a scale of 1 – 10, I was like negative 10.
But somewhere on that journey from -10 back where I am now, I have really found out about me – the way down deep me – the me who begged God for mercy in the midst of everything – the me who was no longer strong – the me who crumbled and am slowly being but back together – by my sprit – by God.
The thing is though, as He is putting me back together I am noticing things aren’t the same…how can they be?
I feel like I am a favorite coffee mug that has been dropped time and time again – every time I am glued back together, but you can see the lines – the seams aren’t seamless…but I don’t believe they are meant to be seamless.
I look back on me – on my life and I see the seams have been there from the beginning.
I see I have always been a broken coffee cup, continually put back together…but aren’t we all?
But there is a difference from my cup today verses my cup of past…even my cup of yesterday.
I learning that I am proud of my seams.
I am proud of my brokenness.
I am proud that in no way shape or form am I perfect – not even close…at all.
I am be proud I can be busted up in pieces all over the floor, some pieces under the refrigerator that I have to reach far back to get and some gone forever.
I am proud that I am learning to call out for help and tell others – I am broken again – please help.
I am proud of my seams.
I am proud people can look at me and see I am not perfect, but I am broken and more than likely will be broken again and always will be put back together.
I don’t know why I tried for so long to hide my seams – to hide my brokenness?
I think I thought the seams made me not strong – if I had seams, then it was clear to me – to the world -that I had been broken and a broken cup surely could hold it all in…surely.
Now, I look at this cup –my cup – me…that has been broken countless times and glued back together the same amount of times and I am sure will be broken again.
Now, I think I am strong because of these seams – because I have been broken and have had no choice but to be glue back together.
Now, I am learning to be thankful for my seams – they do after all let beautiful slivers of light into my cup.
Now, I wear my glued together seams like a brand new coat – for all the world to see and love.