There is a crack in everything, that is how the light gets in.
Today as I set our table for brunch, I noticed the numerous scratches on our chairs. When we
first purchased them over13 years ago, the perfectly painted, french country chairs sat pristinely around our kitchen table. Those chairs held the bottoms of our four babies and soon their sticky fingers left unknown soggy and sometimes hardened substances on the curved back. For years, my kiddos squirmed, twisted and sometimes fell right out of those chairs.
As I tucked in the rough seats, I remembered my firstborn's freckled face as she laced up her soccer shoes. I recalled my second daughter struggling to understand the mystery of fractions while my son set up a board game.Our youngest's endless broccoli negotiation poured then into my memory. With each chip of paint, I saw the hours of meals spent laughing, discussing, crying, and praying. The friends who gathered, the many coffees consumed and the hundreds of off- key birthday melodies song. I love those chairs. I love the stories each scratch tells.
In life, some of the most significant stories result from scratches, nicks, and chips. For me, I would not be the woman I am today without my bumps and bruises. I suppose it is the story of the cross. Jesus' wounds tell His story of grace, love, and restoration. Our cracks allow Jesus' goodness to come through us. Our wear and tear become part of our story which ultimately adds to His unique story of grace, love, and restoration.
Side Note- For those of you in the midst of little sticky hands: I remember grocery shopping with my four babies (under five) when an older woman shared "It goes so fast. Enjoy them while they are young." I politely nodded and thought "Yeah, right. Fast? I have changed ten diapers, wiped 15 noses, nursed four times, read five books, and it's only 10 AM. Let's move this time right along." So as an empty nester, I am careful to offer advice, except- Look for the scratches.