Broken

That car sitting for two weeks? It's broken.

My favorite coffee mug...the handle busted right off.

The fence? It’s thrashed.

And here, in the spring, with all things new, we are sure, nothing should go wrong.

Yet we are surrounded. By friend whose back is scorched with pain. Another, smashed upon the road, by car passing. Or a marriage, fractured.

The world tells us that we all live in a fairy tale. The Prince is always handsome and he always loves the Princess Perfectly. The story goes Just Right. And there is Always a happy ending.

Truth is, we find life precarious and hearts defective, shattered by ache.

We are Broken.

We have Broken lives.

And each time we admit the story isn’t going Just Right, we are admitting our need for a Savior. Redeemer. Father. Helper.

When I say right out, I am Broken, my relationship is busted, my heart is thrashed, I have another opportunity to lean into Him. I allow Him to wade into the mess and mend.

Mend things. Mend aches. Mend me.