Broken Things

Things will break.

People tell you they will cry.  They tell you about the laundry.  They warn you about your heart.  But they don't tell you all the senseless things that your children will break, ruin, destroy, decimate.  Last week was a breaking week.  I lost the backpack shelf (pulled right out of the wall), a piece of wall decor in Wyatt's room, two of my favorite ice cream dishes, and this fruit bowl.

Those are just the broken things.  There were also messes-- chocolate on clothes, water spilled on papers and snot smeared across t-shirts and forearms.  It's enough to send you running for the hills!

But Friday morning, when the last bowl bit the dust, I felt peace wash over me. What was done was done. So instead of yelling, blaming and blasting poor Logan who dropped another dish on the fruit bowl while unloading the dishwasher, I hugged him.  I told him it was just a dish.  

Broken things can be mended or replaced.  But hearts broken by words spoken from an angry mama are much harder to heal.

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