Broken Things

When my youngest daughter was in kindergarten she came home with many stories.
Stories about whom she played with, pictures she drew, and what they had for a snack.
I heard about the toy kitchen and what wonderful recipe was concocted that day.
I listened to stories about friends.

Whether you were morning or afternoon kindergarten, there were no buses at lunchtime.
You were picked up at 11:30 or brought to school at 12:30.
There was an orderly line in front of the school as you dropped your child right at the door.

The bus ride home was for all the students, K-5th grade.
My daughter was so glad her brother was on the bus as well.
It was a bit intimidating to walk on the bus with people older than you.

She was delighted to have her brother as her protector.
She sat in the front of the bus where the younger children sat.
He sat towards the back with the older ones, keeping a close eye on her.

How funny that a hierarchy happened even there on the bus.
Unspoken yet well known.
Lines you didn’t cross.

My daughter kept talking about one friend in particular.
She told me how she sat on the bus with him because he always saved her a seat.
They seemed to have a lot in common.

At dinnertime I would always ask everyone about their day.
To get the more hesitant ones talking, I asked, Who did you sit with on the bus?
That usually opened up story after story and gave me insight into their day.

She couldn’t wait to tell me about her bus ride home.
We all grew to know and love this little friend.
I made a mental note to try to meet him.

The kindergartners took a field trip.
Many parents were needed to help with the children.
I volunteered.

I was anxious to see all of the children I had heard so much about.
I sat through the museum program and looked around the room.
I tired to imagine who my daughter’s bus friend could possibly be.

When it was time to leave, the parents gathered the children that were in their care.
My daughter tapped my on the arm and I turned around.
Mommy, I want you to meet my friend, said with such tenderness and love.

There before me was a little boy.
He had hearing aids in his ears, thick glasses, and his small frame was twisted.
He said hello to me with a speech impediment probably due to his hearing loss.

This is my friend, she proudly announced.
I shook his hand and told him how delighted I was to finally meet him.
I mentally revisited every conversation we had about her friend.

Never once had she mentioned anything about her friend’s appearance.
Never once had she mentioned anything about his hearing aids or thick glasses.
Never once had she mentioned anything about not understanding her friend.

Never once.

He was a delightful little boy and I could easily see why they were friends.
He saved her a seat on the bus after all.
They had a lot in common.

All they saw was what they had in common.
The differences were not seen.
They were looking at each other with their hearts and not their eyes.

If only adults could do that!
When does it begin to change?
When do the differences matter more than what we have in common?

When do we begin to see color?
When do we begin to measure everyone against some standard of normalcy?
Who sets the standard?

I know in my heart who loved the way they should love.
I know in my heart who had the more Christ-like response.

People were bringing little children to Jesus to have Him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, He was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it. And He took the children in His arms, put His hands on them and blessed them. (Mark 10: 13-16)

Did you ever think about what it means to receive the kingdom of God like a little child?
Children do not see differences as a problem.
Children seem to treasure uniqueness and see only what they have in common.

God is in the habit of making broken things beautiful!
Broken things would be a description of ALL of us!
Those that are physically handicapped just have more obvious differences.

In reality, we are all broken because of sin.
Only God can make us whole again.
Only God gave give us New Life when we trust in Jesus alone for our salvation.

Only God can mend broken things.
Brokenness that you can see.
Brokenness that you can’t see.

God sees.
God mends.
God wants us to receive the kingdom like a little child.

Innocent.
Beautiful.
Bearers of His Image.

Have you considered your own brokenness?
Or are you quicker to see what is broken in someone else?

God repairs broken things, and that would be ALL of us!