Broken pieces serve a purpose

I hear the rushing of the water, as it makes its way around the stones that make up its bank.

Some of the rocks are large, and immovable.

Others a little smaller, but unmoving just the same.

Along the shore, and in the depths of the water, tiny stones drift from here and there. Maybe they’ve always been small.

Maybe they’ve never been big, unmoved by the water’s roar.

Or maybe, the water changed them, breaking them up from the large stone they once were. Maybe the water broke them off, piece by piece.

Maybe a storm raged and it was too much for the stone to take, and little pieces of itself began to drift downstream.

Maybe those little stones wonder how they will ever be remembered, when they’re so small, so many pieces.

Everyone loved to talk of the might of big rocks, who hadn’t moved at all. Nothing seemed to phase them. But no one talked of the little stones that lay on the shore, or floated swiftly through the water’s depths.

But a little hand, picked up a little stone, and threw it into the water, her voice squealing with glee. The little stone had never heard anyone rejoice over finding such a little broken piece.

“If I must be broken, then I hope every little piece brings someone joy.”

The big stones could never boast of bringing joy to someone else. But those little broken pieces, the little stones, every piece brought someone, somewhere a little joy.

Every piece served a purpose.

And every broken piece of you is there for someone else, it’s not in vain.

Psalms 147:3

“He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.”