Out of all the pieces of cereal in his bag, from the entire box, he was able to find the two halves of the same dehydrated strawberry. It was a minor, very minor miracle.
It got me thinking. Isn't that what children do for adults? They put the pieces back together.
As babies, we come into the world whole, unspoiled and unmarred by life. Sometimes we get pieces taken out of us early, some not until the turmoil of adolescence. All of us have pieces taken out. Some have entire chunks of themselves heaved away by circumstance, pain and dysfunction. Others have scrapes from tough words or missed opportunities.
As adults we believe another will complete us. We marry. We have children. Then we become the caretakers of their wholeness.
This morning I realized, my children have been the stewards of MY wholeness. They have forced me to look into the mirror and really see what is reflected. They have been the reason I faced the ugly, brokeness in my heart, spirit and mind. It was in their eyes I began to see myself again as a woman created and called and equipped to care for these little miracles.
I know my pieces are put together finally and forever. The work is done. There will always be little adjustments. A little dusting off and a little shoring up here and there. A little tweaking.
This morning, in the rush to work out, shop and get home again before the washer gets repaired, I was reminded that God reached down into the mess and found the pieces. He put them back together.
I was supposed to be working this afternoon. I was rushing to the laptop, because the baby finally was quiet, desperate to get some real work done. My five year old, sleepily wandered to my side, "Mommy would you cuddle with me on da couch?" I did. And slept for an hour. Content. Whole. As whole as a strawberry from inside the cereal box.
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