What if every person we crossed paths with today had some level of brokenness? And what if that brokenness was the window to seeing what is whole?
The man at the counter.
The woman at the gas station.
The driver you flicked-off on en route to work.
The waiter at the Mexican restaurant.
The pregnant lady at the pool.
The actor.
The trucker.
The doctor.
The pastor.
The student.
The mom.
The boy laughing.
The woman crying.
The man praying.
The child.
They’re just like the rest of us; we’re just like the rest of them.
Broken.
It comes with the package of a beating heart and breathing lung. And whether manifested through a broken-heart, body, spirit, or mind, brokenness is a part of being.                                                                     And yet we resist it.                                                                                                                                                         We treat it like a cancer, like a part of us that’s wrong and needs to be defeated, or as an obstacle preventing our wholeness. Every once in awhile you'll come across a person willing to work with their brokenness, versus fighting it, but they’re few and far between, and usually the quieted voices of culture.  I wish we believed every person we crossed paths with today had some level of brokenness. And that in that brokenness was the window to seeing what is whole.