The Garden of Broken Pieces

They say we are strong. Is that because they fear we will break?

Like if they acknowledge or initiate the truth and pain, they will break us.

They handle us with care and treat us like we are fragile, yet label us strong. We are both fragile and strong, grief and love. We are fragile but able.

A year and a half ago, a great friend passed away and I took a solo road trip to her hometown in west Texas. As I pulled into town, I noticed that a little antique shop was open, so I pulled in.

I have visited friends in this town for almost 30 years and have not seen a person at this shop one time before this trip.

The owner and her friend were pulling out and labeling items for their sale and invited me to look around. Somewhere between the antique baby carriage and rusty Tonka Toy dump truck, I started to get teary eyed.

I was thinking about my son, how he should be playing with a dump truck like that.

I was thinking about my friend Jennifer, and the four kids she left behind.

“Do you want to see my Garden of Broken Pieces?” the owner asks out of nowhere.

“Yes,” I answer almost in desperation. “I’m full of broken pieces.”

She took me to the back of her shop, out a side door to her Garden of Broken Pieces.

Broken pieces of life’s treasures and trinkets were scattered around a garden of pebbles; chipped crystals, rusty pieces of metal, shards of glass, a cracked ceramic angel, and a moss-covered mushroom surrounded by gnomes dancing on a cracked mirror.

As I was soaking in the unexpected beauty, symbolism, and synchronicity, she invited me to choose a broken piece.

You would have thought that I was choosing between a princess or teardrop cut engagement ring the way I was studying the broken pieces in the garden of what was, what could have been, and what still is.

As I looked for and found the most perfectly imperfect piece.

When her father passed away and willed his antiques and “junk” to her, she couldn’t get rid of anything. Even the broken pieces.

We can’t get rid of our broken pieces either, but like the shop owner, we can find ways to repurpose them. We can find purpose in our pain and our own way to live without our children in this garden of broken pieces called Earth.

They say we are strong, and they are right. We can turn our broken pieces into masterpieces.

When your grief leaves you feeling so angry that you could just break something, do! Then take those broken pieces and turn them into something beautiful in honor of the pain, the love.

Much love, Cullin’s Mama (Ginny)

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