Un-Mended

 The hot glue gun lay unopened in the package.

         “You can’t.”

There must be a way. I stared at the broken pieces laying on the table.  I must be tired. There has to be a way.

         “You can’t”

 In the first chapter of Mended Angie tells the story of her broken pitcher and the process by which God brought healing as she glued it back together. A friend of mine read the book and broke her own pitcher, then glued it back together while God showed her special things, personally and for the Body of Christ.

I knew this was something I wanted to do in my week at home as a sort of milestone. I chose a plate rather than a pitcher under the nudge of Holy Spirit and set it aside. I had purchased the plate on one of my trips to New Mexico, carefully swaddling it in bubble wrap for the trip home. It was thick pottery with southwestern flair and a butterfly in the center.

The morning of my "pitcher" day, I woke up exhausted. Opening the Msg Bible, I turned to where I had been reading in the Psalms. Psalm 18:20 reads "God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before Him." As I read, I knew this was the day. After taking a photo of the whole plate, I placed it in a plastic baggie, and then doubled it in a regular Target shopping bag. As I stepped out the door, I found the weather unusually warm and rainy. Snow had melted away from the cement ridge around our stone terrace to the right of the house entrance.  

I threw the bag down on the cement.

         “Again.”

I threw it again and sensing I needed to, a third time. When I opened the bag, there were several large pieces remaining among smaller pieces and fragments with powder. I took more photos and lay the pieces out on my workspace. Then I knew. 

I wont be able to put this back together again.

That can’t be true. I must be wimpy. I pieced what I could of the butterfly together, but the pieces had thick layers. Only two of them fit evenly.

         “You can’t.”

I can’t. I can’t put this back together. This wasn’t the way the exercise was supposed to go. I would glue the pieces together, healing would flow and I would have this great story to write about on my blog. I would be mended or at the very least, this would be a marker for moving forward.

         

I must have chosen the wrong vessel.

         “No, I chose it.”

I looked back at my verse.

God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before him.

It didn’t say anything about me putting them back together.

Gathering the small pieces and fragments, I placed them in a mason jar and left the large pieces on the table.

Here are the pieces Lord - all the broken pieces, my health issues, my husband’s new health problem, our business, our family, and our future. I give them to you.

         

There was no rush of peace, nothing, just silence. 

Two days later the pieces are right where I left them. 

to be continued ...