An old building in disrepair, collapsing toward the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A rusting, defective car, stuck in layers of mud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Shattered glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Melting candle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cracked eggshells.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chipped ceramics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The sight of the simplest crack in a sidewalk can still my body, stun my soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The colors and textures of a simple, broken branch can inspire poetry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It may be a bit bizarre, but brokenness really can become a gallery art piece to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am in awe of the beauty of brokenness because I relate to the ordinary being an un-mended mess\u2014a mix of decay and transformation. The objects all around me feel familiar because I have been broken and mended, again and again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I love\u00a0this poem\u00a0about brokenness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This Psalm<\/a> also speaks to me, deeply:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Into your hands I commend my spirit;<\/p>\n\n\n\n you will redeem me, LORD, God of truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Be gracious to me, LORD, for I am in distress;<\/p>\n\n\n\n affliction is wearing down my eyes,<\/p>\n\n\n\n my throat and my insides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My life is worn out by sorrow,<\/p>\n\n\n\n and my years by sighing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My strength fails in my affliction;<\/p>\n\n\n\n my bones are wearing down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Be strong and take heart,<\/p>\n\n\n\n all who hope in the LORD.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I am forgotten, out of mind like the dead;<\/p>\n\n\n\n I am like a worn-out tool.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hear the whispers of the crowd;<\/p>\n\n\n\n terrors are all around me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But I trust in you, LORD;<\/p>\n\n\n\n I say, \u201cYou are my God.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Let your face shine on your servant;<\/p>\n\n\n\n save me in your mercy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Oftentimes, it seems that brokenness is what helps me to become most in touch with my humanity; I know that this part of my nature doesn’t make me unique. In service and contemplation, I have touched physical and mental wounds in myself and others. I have heard people pour forth the worse of spiritual sorrow, anguish and misery. At times, my own doubts and struggles have been so intense that I felt incapable of doing anything but collapsing, quitting. Don’t we all feel dysfunctional, inoperable and crumbled in certain circumstances, in one way or another?<\/p>\n\n\n\n It seems to me that the season of Lent has much to do with this brokenness. As Holy Week nears and we enter into the most sacred days of the Church year, let us check in. What has happened in our hearts and in our lives as a result of our fasting, praying and penance in the desert? How have these desert days helped us to recognize where we are in need of mending, healing and reconciliation in our lives? How have our eyes been opened to the truth of our interdependence, of how we are made for community, for Christ, for others? How have we been transformed and changed? And what scars can we now bear more courageously?<\/p>\n\n\n\n A few weeks ago, I presented a program at the spirituality center where I minister<\/a> about this passion of mine, the beauty of brokenness. After shared contemplation, we attempted to convey our reflections through the Japanese craft of kintsugi<\/a>, which repairs objects with gold in order to highlight and honor the history of the object: the beauty of the cracks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Here is where I learned about how to experience kintsugi, without becoming an apprentice in Japan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n