Anytime I hear the sound of glass shattering – even a vase or cup dropping – my shoulders go up and my face cringes.
You know you have that “oooh” response when you hear a waiter drop a tray of glasses.
Shattered glass has a distinct sound. Shattering makes the sound of spilled pieces.
What about when it happens to your heart?
The sound of a shattered heart looks silent, but it makes the sound of spilled tears and sobs. Yet, I still make the same cringing face when the heart shatters.
I have the honor of being a contributing author for a book being published in September. I never thought I would be published or be an author of really anything. I am beyond grateful for this opportunity.
I spent months crafting the pages of my heart’s story in Word form. This has been no small thing for me to tackle. Writing this chapter has forced me to look back over the shattered pieces of my heart. I cringed daily as I tried to put words to my shattered pieces.
The grief of my shattered pieces still ache today. Nothing like writing it all down to reopen some wounds…
My heart has endured some shattering through the messiness of a broken home, broken trust, broken relationships, broken survival skills, broken dreams, and just a broken me.
I sat for a long time starring at the pieces of me. The sound of my shattered heart can still be heard through spilt tears. I have no idea where those pieces go. I have no idea how to heal in some areas. However, I am grateful that He knows how all my pieces fit back together.
There are also new pieces I have discovered and still working on putting words to. My tender heart still cringes at the sound of risks that end in shattered pieces.
No piece is missing. No piece is extra. Every piece matters.
The process has been so bittersweet for me. However, it is always worth picking up the pieces. Piece by piece, I am healing towards a whole heart.
NO piece is missing. Every piece matters. Risk to place your pieces in the hands of the one who mends us back to together.