We break things. All of us. It’s one of our strongest family traits. My boys play hard. I unload the dishes hard. Sometimes I even put ice cold water in crystal bowls and pitchers to cool them off from the steamy dishwasher. Perhaps they got a little pissed that I didn’t hand-wash them so they retaliate by shattering. Everywhere. Overreaction, much? Or maybe they overheard me say one too many times, “I never registered for crystal.” I’m not a crystal person. Because I break things, remember?
We have a specific designated area on our kitchen counter where we place broken things. It’s similar to a waiting room at a doctor’s office though it’s not on Google maps yet. My husband waits for enough of these broken pieces and parts to accumulate to justify a super glue session out in the garage.
“Next in line. The super-glue doctor will see you.”
Despite my clumsy tendencies and big-hands and haste that often makes broken waste, I have a patient, loving, gorilla-glueing husband. I believe in him. Truly. I think he can super-glue damn-near anything back together again. I’m talking to you, Humpty Dumpty.
“Just set it on the counter. Your Dad will fix it,” I confidently tell our children.
He’s not only spectacular at super-glueing back together broken pieces and parts of toys, pottery, chairs, tables etc. he also helps fix people. He harvests time, even when he’s exhausted and burnt-out on people. His time is always in season. He listens and questions and hugs and forgives and tries so hard to understand. Jesus would be proud. Super proud.
He has helped super-glue my worn-out and anxious soul back together time and time again. Especially when I feel so unfixable. Or broken in too many pieces. He waits and searches under the bed or in the closet. He gently knocks on the bathroom door. He helps find the parts of me that matter the most. My joy. My laugh. My compassion. My empathy. My weary confused soul. My resilience.
Life can be fragile yet it can break us. There’s nothing wrong with having a special broken space on the counter or in your room or in your car, especially if there’s a certain someone who knows how and when to super-glue you back together.
It may be thoughtful to let this person know from time to time how he or she mends you.
Thank you, Cory. You’re the greatest super gluer I know.