Broken

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Fall…Break…sweep…hold my breath before losing it.  Fall…Break…sweep…walk away before losing it.  Fall…Break…sweep…count to ten before losing it.  That’s what happened the other night while decorating the Christmas tree.  Ornament after ornament kept falling (ie-being dropped) and shattering on our hardwood floors.  Before I could even hang one I had swept up 3.  Crazy!

Once the breakers were in bed, I decided to do a little private decorating on my own (to justify all the previous breaking).  And in my good intentions, in my adult carefulness and experience, one got away.  The little red and green glittered ornament slipped from branch to branch to branch as I held my breath pleading “please don’t let another one break.  I can’t take it.”

And there, on the bottom branch, it stopped.  Rolled.  Rested.  I breathed a huge sigh of relief and for a moment saw myself in the ornament.  I tumble, I fall, I feel like I might break.  But there He is.  At the end of myself.  My last hope when I finally humble myself to look at Him.  He catches me, holds me, offers me grace, lavishes me with freedom.   Relief.  Now I can love.  Now I can let go.  I am loved.

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