The subject of last weeks life writing series was “Broken”.
During an exercise, we received a picture of a vase that looked like a puzzle. We then were asked, “What has been broken in your life?” and had to write our replies within the pieces of the vase. We then were to color those pieces of the vase with whatever colors we wanted.

Looking at the jagged pieces before me, I began to think of my own life and started to write in each blank piece. I started filling in the larger ones of what came to mind first, then to the smaller ones; they were a bit more difficult.
It was interesting while looking at those larger pieces and seeing the words how the memories of them came flooding back… I smiled as I looked upon them, for I had seen the healing and the strength that I received through them.
I looked at how the pieces came together, showing their edges, every jagged piece how they made a new vase. The colors blending made a beautiful piece of art.
Looking at the cracks, I seen some pieces missing… yet the vase looked whole… I understood that.
It reminded me of a poem I had read once of a weaver weaving various threads in a tapestry and not seeing the whole design until the loom had stopped.
I understood the concept of being broken.

During the week, our assignment was to think more on the broken vase. Somehow, in looking at the picture it reminded me of something given to me, a vase that held many memories.

I was in elementary school when the teacher had told us to find something at home that was old and bring it in for show and tell. In looking around the house, I picked a vase off the windowsill and took it in. I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. I was so proud to show it.
In coming home, I had forgotten it in my schoolbag.
That night I learned a very valuable lesson. Without asking, I had taken something that was not mine.
The vase was my Grammies’ who lived with us and she noticed it was gone and had went to my Mother inquiring about it. My Mother in turn came to me to ask of its where a bouts; it was then I pulled it out of my schoolbag and told her that it was me. I got a licking that night for doing wrong.
As I was alone sobbing on my bed, I looked up to find my Grammie sitting beside me. Comforting me, I apologized for taking her vase of which she forgave me. From her lap, she pulled out that vase and gave it to me.

In looking at the vase many years ago through older eyes, I wondered what I seen in it. It was just an old bean jar that someone had glued pieces of paper. Since my Grammie had given it to me, it remained on my shelf; as not only a reminder of a lesson learned but also the love we shared.

Looking at it today, I see as I did when a child. I see the beauty in the imperfection. Each jagged piece connected together to make it beautiful. Each crack having purpose.
While looking it over, I noticed some cracks were transparent… I could see though the jar; my thoughts went to my Grammie. In remembering the words that I had written on the assignment that felt so difficult to write, tears came streaming down my face as I remembered.
In convulsive sobs, I grieved the loss I had felt many years ago when being pulled from a home; a separation from my grandmother, a loss I had felt but never had grieved. During the intense sobs for a split second, my mind thought of food; my old coping skill to avoid pain. I dismissed the thought immediately and continued to feel what I was feeling.

After the tears dried, I smiled; another piece put back in place with healing. This is a pure example of brokenness and putting a broken piece back together… the concept reinforced once again.

Many things have happened in my life that has caused me pain; it was unavoidable. It is all apart of living. During those times, I felt broken, as if I was falling apart; I would never be the same.

As I look at my vase, I smile. Having been broken is not so bad. For in the healing I have learned more about myself, the pieces do eventually come together; there are no time restraints. In everything there is a purpose. Those cracks, those old wounds healed, making me stronger and more beautiful than before.

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