my broken
This weekend, my little peanut Daniel broke his thumb. Now he gets to spend the next several weeks in a cast.
Saturday morning I had gone to spend the day with him. He and his sister were playing contentedly in the play room and he come to me with a forlorn look on his little face.
"It's not fair." He declared in his 5 year old sensibility.
"What's not fair?" I asked.
"I can't play like I want to because my arm broken."
My heart hurt for him. He just wanted to be...normal again.
I pulled in up in my lap and cradled him like I did when he was a much smaller boy. Then I told him this:
"No pal, it's not fair and I know it stinks that you will have to wear a cast for a while. But you know what? I bet none of the other kids in your class have a cast like yours do they?"
He shook his head.
"So that's actually pretty cool. You're the ONLY kid with a cast like yours. And you can still play it will just be different for a while that's all."
This seemed to ease his mind a bit and after a moment more of cuddling he turned back into a big boy and broke free, tromping back to the play room.
Today his mom sent me a picture of him smiling and showing off all the artwork that had happened on his cast. He was in fact unique and his cast was "cool". It was something no one else had.
As I think back on the things I said to Danny, I cannot help but think that I probably need to constantly be saying similar things to myself.
How many times do I crawl up into my "Father's" lap and complain that it's simply not fair that I am not like everyone else.
I just want to be normal.
But just like I said gently to Danny the Lord is constantly whispering to me, "your broken makes you beautiful."
The thing that is most frustrating to me is also something that makes me completely and utterly unique. It is my trial, my struggle, my journey. It is mine. No one else's.
I need to learn how to release the idea of what seems "fair" and realize that since the entrance of sin into the world life was never meant to be fair.
But it's my journey, my struggles and my broken that make me uniquely me.
Saturday morning I had gone to spend the day with him. He and his sister were playing contentedly in the play room and he come to me with a forlorn look on his little face.
"It's not fair." He declared in his 5 year old sensibility.
"What's not fair?" I asked.
"I can't play like I want to because my arm broken."
My heart hurt for him. He just wanted to be...normal again.
I pulled in up in my lap and cradled him like I did when he was a much smaller boy. Then I told him this:
"No pal, it's not fair and I know it stinks that you will have to wear a cast for a while. But you know what? I bet none of the other kids in your class have a cast like yours do they?"
He shook his head.
"So that's actually pretty cool. You're the ONLY kid with a cast like yours. And you can still play it will just be different for a while that's all."
This seemed to ease his mind a bit and after a moment more of cuddling he turned back into a big boy and broke free, tromping back to the play room.
Today his mom sent me a picture of him smiling and showing off all the artwork that had happened on his cast. He was in fact unique and his cast was "cool". It was something no one else had.
As I think back on the things I said to Danny, I cannot help but think that I probably need to constantly be saying similar things to myself.
How many times do I crawl up into my "Father's" lap and complain that it's simply not fair that I am not like everyone else.
I just want to be normal.
But just like I said gently to Danny the Lord is constantly whispering to me, "your broken makes you beautiful."
The thing that is most frustrating to me is also something that makes me completely and utterly unique. It is my trial, my struggle, my journey. It is mine. No one else's.
I need to learn how to release the idea of what seems "fair" and realize that since the entrance of sin into the world life was never meant to be fair.
But it's my journey, my struggles and my broken that make me uniquely me.
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