In the past few days I've been struck by how much brokenness is around me. A teacher had her feelings hurt--"broken"--recently by a student who quite frankly said she was stupid. Another colleague has a broken marriage that will remain so as she has recently bought a new home, moved out, and started a decidedly new life. Daily 100 or so pencil tips are broken in my classroom from little hands grinding the points into fresh white papers. An aid came rushing into our building today with coffee streaming down her arm as her travel mug broke on her way to work.

Sometimes, breaking things is a good thing. I've always loved breaking the seal on quality mozzarella cheese. The aroma is heavenly. I am in the process of "breaking" the binding on an ancient family book in order to preserve it. Spiritually, insight, growth and maturity are often brought about when the Lord has pruned our humanness so that His desires can be made our own.

Brokenness is not always pleasant, but I prefer it to being falsely "put together". I'm trying, despite my pride, to live a broken, humble life.

Even my camera is broken.

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