I have no idea how we got on the subject of hair, but as we were all sitting around the dinner table, my sixteen-year-old daughter Brianna ran her hand through her hair and said, “Look, mom, my hair is as soft as butter.” I gave her a nod of agreement but then nearly spit out my food as my nine-year-old daughter Autumn replied, “Well, that’s just because your hair is so greasy!” Brianna and I both nearly peed our pants after hearing that one. We must have all laughed for at least ten minutes. Oh, the things that girl says! 😉
Today as I was preparing lunch for my 7 yr. old daughter, we had a bit of a disaster. My daughter Autumn loves to be in the kitchen with me and I very much appreciate her help. Unfortunately, today as she was reaching into the cupboard to grab a plate, the outcome didn’t end so well. All of a sudden, I heard the sound of glass shattering and turned around to see what had happened. Pieces of glass were everywhere, even at the far ends of the kitchen. I immediately ran over to my daughter to make sure that she was okay. I looked her over carefully, making sure that there weren’t any remnants of glass left on her. Then, because she was barefoot, I carried her into the other room and checked her over for any scratches that she may have gotten. Thankfully she was okay, and so with a huge sigh of relief, I then began the tedious process of cleaning up all of the glass.
It didn’t take long for me to notice just how tiny the pieces were. Little slivers littered the countertop and dusted the floor. I tried sweeping, vacuuming, and even mopping; anything to try and get rid of the tiny little shards, which seemed to be embedded into the hardwood floor. The more pieces I picked up, the more pieces I seemed to find. I thought I might never see the end of the mess. Eventually, though, everything was cleaned up. I put all of the cleaning supplies away and decided to finish making lunch. Yet even then… after scouring, dusting, mopping, sweeping, and vacuuming, I still continued to find more remnants of glass.
This little incident reminded me of life, and how so often we face brokenness ourselves. We pick up the pieces and go on, but we never quite seem to be able to find all of the pieces at once. Then, once in a while, we’ll find a piece later on and sometimes it isn’t a very pleasant experience when we do. We often find ourselves wounded when a piece is unexpectedly found. Then we think to ourselves… I thought I had found all of those pieces, I wonder if there are still more left to find? It makes us question whether or not we are really safe from the shards that seem to mar our past. Will we keep finding more? Or is it finally safe to walk around barefoot and freely once again?