And in a split second, we both hear it. The one thing that I neglected to baby proof crashes to the floor. And I hear it in the air. The brokeness. I am not the least bit concerned about the thing. My mind is on her. Is she okay? I turn so fast and search for her. There she is. In the middle of the kitchen floor. Smiling. So proud of the mess she has made. I rush to her and search every inch of her bare legs to make sure there is no scratches or bruises or bumps. There are not.
She plays with Daddy as I clean up the mess. It takes less than a minute.
And all the way to work I ponder it. Brokenness. Messes.
I reflect on life. The brokenness. The messiness.
And then I smile as I see the sun peeking over the cloud. Because through Him I am healed. Through Him I am clean. And whole.
Life as we know has been a bit messy as of late. And the messiness has caused brokenness.
And in the midst of a broken dish and my concern for my daughter, I realized how our Savior must feel about us during our brokenness and mess. How He longs to scoop us up, brush us off and make sure we are not permenantly scarred.
Life is no less messy since the broken dish. But it is a little sweeter. Because we are clinging to Him. To His promises. Promises to heal broken hearts and bind wounds (Psalm 147:3). Promises of hope and future (Jeremiah 29:11). Promises to work all things for good (Romans 8:28). Promises to fight the mess for us (Exodus 14:14).
Yes, life is a sweet --broken and messy-- but much sweeter because of His promises.
"May the hope of God fill you with all joy and peace
as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow
with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."
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