At first I thought it was a bullet. Goodness knows, in the current culture, I keep trying to train myself to assume it is a bullet rather than a firecracker whenever I hear that sound. My split second identification just might save myself or the people I love someday.
Thankfully, it wasn’t a bullet. What my two friends and I who were working in my elementary classroom heard that weekday in July was a rock which had been shot from a lawn mower, as the maintenance man was mowing towards my classroom window.
And the window shattered. It cracked. It splintered. It started at the hole in the center of the window until not one square inch of window remained intact. There was nothing normal about it. It took my classroom crew and me a moment to realize the window was double pane. The glass would not fall into shards on us or inside my classroom. But oh, did the shards fall onto the playground and pool on the ledge of that window.
It was fascinating. It was intense. It was ruined.
It was strangely beautiful.
In Job Chapter 17 verse 11, Job says to God something I’ve said to God. “My plans are shattered.”
Is it strange to admit sometimes I see my nineteen year old paraplegic daughter roll towards me, and I can still hardly comprehend that this is her life? Good grief, you’d think I’d be more than used to it by now, but I don’t think seeing one’s child so visibly and peculiarly different than everyone else in society is something a mother will ever “get used to.” These were certainly not “my plans” for her life or for my family. “My plans” are shattered.
At a recent teacher luncheon we were to tell what brought us to the school where we currently teach. It was my turn and I truthfully answered, “A wreck, my daughter’s paralysis, a maternity leave, and well, here I am!” None of those things, not even sitting at that teacher luncheon was ever “in my plans.”
Once my classroom window shattered this summer, an odd thing happened. People were drawn to the brokenness. As the weeks progressed and the window went unrepaired, colleagues continued to stop in and check on the window. People wanted to talk about what was broken and how even in its brokenness it exuded beauty.
The brokenness brought about fellowship . . . way more fellowship than would have occurred without my window being shattered.
The brokenness in my life has brought about fellowship . . . way more fellowship than would have occurred without my life being shattered.
My life is fascinating. My life is intense. At some points my life felt ruined. And my life is strangely and amazingly beautiful.
My plans were shattered. God’s plans were not.
And maybe you feel the same way too, Dear Reader.
Until the next Wednesday the Lord allows. Thank you for choosing to follow the blog as I move towards no longer posting it on Facebook.