One evening, as I was preparing dinner, my 3-year-old son was joyfully dancing in the kitchen to his own whimsical tune. Suddenly, he stopped, fixating on the refrigerator. He pointed to a colorful picture he had painted, proudly displayed with a ceramic snowflake magnet he crafted at preschool. This snowflake was his pride and joy, a gift made with love for his father.
In that moment, I watched as he tugged at the picture, trying to reach for his beloved snowflake. As I turned to gently warn him, the magnet slipped from the fridge, crashing onto the tile floor, resulting in a shattered piece of his creation. His reaction was instantaneous; tears streamed down his cheeks as he instinctively called for me to mend what had been damaged.
As mothers, we often spring into action, instinctively fixing whatever we can—whether it’s a broken toy or a scraped knee. In the eyes of our children, we are the superheroes who heal wounds, banish fears, and locate lost treasures. As I bent down to examine the remnants of his snowflake, my mind raced to find my glue gun, desperate to restore his cherished work. However, I quickly realized that this wasn’t just a minor break; it was irrevocably shattered. I wrapped my arms around him and said, “Sweetheart, it’s broken, and I’m not sure I can fix it.” I could see the confusion and heartbreak on his face as he grappled with the notion that something so precious could be beyond repair.
Understanding a toddler’s perspective is often a challenge. They are notorious for their fantastical requests—like asking for a sandwich cut into triangles using a blue knife while you balance a banana on your head. From an adult’s viewpoint, these demands seem unreasonable. But in this instance, I felt his pain. How could something so meaningful to him be broken beyond hope?
This experience led me to reflect on my own feelings of brokenness—not in relation to trivial objects, but in a more profound sense of self. For a long time, I would say that certain situations had “bent” me, but acknowledging that I was actually broken seemed like an admission of weakness.
But today, I’m ready to embrace the truth: I am indeed broken. What caused my fracture, you might wonder? For me, it was the loss of my beloved mother. It wasn’t just the heart-wrenching moment I held her hand as she departed this world; it was the gradual decline I witnessed as her vibrant spirit faded day by day. The ordinary moments, like watching my children play and thinking, “My mom would have loved this,” are what truly break me.
Every individual has their own form of brokenness. It may manifest as small fissures that have chipped away at our spirit or monumental events that have left us feeling utterly collapsed. Regardless, we all carry a part of ourselves that is, in some way, fractured. I may not know your specific pain, but what I do want to emphasize is this: acknowledging your brokenness is the first step toward healing.
I once read about a traditional Japanese practice called Kintsugi, where artisans repair broken pottery with lacquer infused with gold. This method highlights the history of the object, making the flaws and repairs part of its beauty. What if we, too, embraced our brokenness as a beautiful aspect of who we are?
As mothers, we strive to protect our children, hoping they never experience the pain of being broken by life. We wish for smooth journeys and gentle breezes as they navigate their paths. Yet, like the tale of my son’s cherished magnet, I aim to impart the wisdom that, as challenges arise, brokenness can lead to newfound beauty.
I collected the fragments of the broken snowflake, placed the magnet back on the refrigerator, and reassured him, “See? It still works. The magnet continues to hold your picture, and now we can appreciate even more of the beautiful artwork behind it.”
To my dear children, when life breaks you, may it reveal opportunities for your inner light to shine through—if you choose that path. I hope you always choose to embrace the beauty that comes from your brokenness, for this world is in dire need of that radiant light.
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Summary:
This piece explores the profound nature of brokenness, both in the trivialities of childhood and in the deep emotional scars we carry as adults. Through the metaphor of a child’s shattered magnet, the author reflects on personal loss, the struggle of accepting brokenness, and the beauty that can emerge from it. By embracing our flaws and recognizing them as part of our stories, we can find healing and illumination.