I am especially broken today ... fever and aching joints. Kind L.L. Barkat slips in with a good, thoughtful word.
On Tuesday morning, I had a speaking engagement. Before I started talking, I went to the ladies room, as I told the women afterwards, “to get all perfect” for them. Standing before the mirror, tugging, flipping, lipsticking, I noticed a big wrinkle at the bottom of my blouse.
This is just like me to show up with a wrinkle when I’m trying to look nice. But I thought, “No, it’s exactly the thing, and I’m going to say something about it.” So I drew attention to the wrinkle and asked everybody to get a good look. Then I said I was glad it was there, because don’t we often look at one another’s “perfect” lives and think, “I wish my life was like hers.”
But we all have our wrinkles. We speak to one another from broken places. I sometimes forget that and begin to feel that I can’t share wisdom or beauty when I know my life is wrinkled. Still, if I waited for the day of perfection to share, I’d never write another word, speak on another platform.
I think that’s one of the reasons I was so touched by what happened in Ann’s comment box. We dared to speak, despite, even because of, our imperfections. And that began something that felt like celebration.
Tonight I wrapped up the package for sweet #44. Again I felt that pang. Who am I to give the gift of words? To press flowers—lavender, yellow and white—between pages? To sign my name? To share a stone?
I thought back on what I received from my stepmother after she read Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places
What if she had held back because her life still isn’t “just so”? I was glad all over again that she gave her gifts, even in brokenness.
So tomorrow I will mail the flowers, the words, the stone, even though my life is far from being “just so.” And I pray that in your own way, you will do the same.
Photo: by L.L. Barkat, precious stones from her step-mother, a gift even in brokenness
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