Fragmented

Mirror, mirror, on the wall.
Who is the fairest of them all?

I grabbed a hammer from the metalsmithing room and found a spot in the basement of the art building that didn't get much traffic. Set some plywood on the floor and placed my sheet of mirror on top. Something about breaking mirrors, omens of bad luck but that feeling of breaking bondage, stirs up excitement and I could feel Emma hovering close behind watching in anticipation. Plus, it's just fun to break things. (*wink)

I lined up the hammer with center of the mirror. Ready. Set. 

WHAM! 

(I mean, I was not planning to hit it that hard...but I guess I don't know my own strength)

Explosion of reflected light! 

Completely shattered...

Pieces everywhere!! 

All over the room. 

It's a miracle that neither Emma nor I got a shard in our eye....

Only a single piece was left on the plywood...my plan of having little to clean up failing miserably .

Emma and I stared in silent shock for a second and then all tension burst.

I dropped to the cement floor laughing till tears streamed down my face. 

Gathering myself, I found a broom and, still giggling, swept up those sharp little knives of broken mirror scattered near and far.  (We didn't tell our professors about that little incident. lol!)

"I AM"

Beloved, just be beautiful!

I am fragmented. 

I am an imperfect metaphor.

Jesus has pierced my heart and it has fractured me rippling to the fingertips of my being. 

Yet from the cracks of my brokenness...out of my weakness...He shines in strength. 

The other day I found myself worrying about how someone was going to react to one of my actions.

Something I had said in a vulnerable, life-pouring, moment.

I tend to fret over whether I say too much or too little. My words never seem like enough.

And then I realized that my worrying was putting my identity in that other person's hands.  I was letting their response define who I am. Dangerous. And the pieces of mirror closed together, forming a shield to my heart, cutting off the Light and preventing God from breathing that so-craved life into me.

What if we could smash the things that we let define who we are? 

What if God provides the hammer...gives authority to denounce the lies that bind?

And oh, the radiating joy and resounding freedom!

Like chimes of tinkling broken glass.

The trill of birdsong.

The laughter of youth.