BROKEN DISHES

I was in the bedroom when I heard the crash and my shoulders tightened as I cringed that same, involuntary cringe everyone does in a restaurant when the waiter drops a tray of dishes. Silence followed, then I heard my husband walk to the garage for the broom and dustpan.
With equal portions of curiosity and dread, I went to the kitchen to see what pieces of china had met their untimely death. My husband was squatting on the floor, scooping the broom into the dustpan.
It was two saucers, he said without looking up. Apparently I had stacked them at an odd angle a week ago and they spent the ensuing time in the cabinet inching closer to the edge. Little did they realize when planning their ambush on my husband that between the granite counter and tile floor, they didnt stand a chance.
I was relieved. The saucers were my least used dishes. They came with the dish set but I rarely used them with the little coffee cups, usually preferring heftier mugs, and they were two small for dessert plates.
Shards of white china were everywhere. The larger pieces were already in the trash and my husband was carefully sweeping the entire area for the elusive tiny slivers. I was glad I put my slippers on.
When youre done sweeping, Ill run a mop over the area to get the ones you cant see. I volunteered, walking past him to pour my morning cup of coffee. Why is there sugar everywhere?
My husband stood to look at the sugar that was mounded like snowdrifts across the counter. I dont know, he said. Ive been cleaning up the floor and didnt notice.
I like to keep a stocked coffee station on the counter next to my coffee maker a glass tray with a decorative sugar and creamer set, flavored coffee syrups, assorted teas and a little bowl of Splenda and Equal for guests who prefer artificial sweeteners. Its also where I display my collection of vintage sugar and creamer sets by corresponding them to the holidays or seasons.
We both stood staring at the sugar spilled around the coffee station. My husband reached to pick up a tiny spoon on the other side of the counter. Was this here? he asked.
My heart sank. The little spoon was the one that belonged in my newly acquired pink glass sugar bowl. The only way it could have been knocked across the counter was if the bowl had broken the fall of the saucers on the way down. I picked up the sugar bowl to find a chip the size of my thumbnail missing from the rim leaving a sharp, uneven edge. I sifted through the spilled sugar to find that even the missing chip had been shattered and no amount of glue would make it presentable.
Obviously beyond repair, I sadly swept all the sugar back into the bowl and slowly dropped it in the trash. I put the orphaned creamer in the cabinet with all my other sets, not quite knowing what Id do with it, but still not able to bring myself to have it join its sibling in the garbage can under the sink.
I set out a new sugar and creamer set, poured in some fresh sugar and headed for the sponge mop. I kept thinking of the broken sugar bowl. Maybe I could turn the chipped side toward the wall and no one would notice. Maybe I could use it for something else that would cover the damage, a small flower bowl perhaps. No, even though it was still serviceable, its marred surface and sharp edge relegated it to the land fill.
I pulled out the trash to stare down at the little pink bowl, trying to think of some reason to rescue it from where it sat abjectly in the middle of yesterdays dinner scraps. Somehow, I identified with the broken bowl.
Thats how we all are. Chipped and damaged but still serviceable. We turn our sharp edges to the wall so no one will see. We make sure the pretty, perfect side faces the world. We make things work, choosing careers and undertaking projects we were not designed for and, most of the time, it turns out okay. But somehow we always know its not the right fit.
Often, others trash us and we wind up sitting in the refuse, not having the energy to climb out. Sometimes, we just wake up one day and find ourselves sitting in the middle of avocado peels and last nights spaghetti. Then, looking around, we start to believe maybe if we got ourselves there, we belong there.
Oh, how thankful I am that God does not see us that way! We are not beyond repair to Him. He doesnt think were disposable when we are cracked or chipped. He never believes we belong in the trash. He tells us in the Bible that with everlasting lovingkindness He has compassion on us and that even if the mountains fall and the world ends, His love will remain with us. His love of us is not conditional on our condition.
God knows our cracks and flaws and He doesnt ever stop loving us because we are damaged; in fact the opposite is true. Because we are broken and while we are shattered, God reached out to love us through His most valuable treasure, the thing that would cost Him the most, His son Jesus.
In the gospels, Jesus tells us the righteous, or the healthy, dont need Him, and thats not why He came. Jesus said He was there for the sick and they were the ones who need a doctor. He came for us regular folk - the broken, the hurting and those who had been labeled un-useable.
With billions of people on the planet, and countless billions who have gone before, Jesus tells us that He will go after one lost sheep. He tells us He will even give His life for that lone little lamb and that there is no greater love than to lay down your life for another.
I may be cracked and flawed. I may have sharp edges that I try to hide. I may be going in the wrong direction or blundering along, unaware of Gods purpose for me. I may even be sitting in the trash of my life, not able to stand the smell but not knowing what to do about it. But I will always know, God loves me how I am, where I am, what I am. Loves me enough to pay everything He had to show me.

Written by Jody Ward