I Normally Share This, but...

I like writing. When I was a little girl, I used to write stories all the time. I was obsessed with Little House on the Prairie and The Baby-sitters Club series, so most of my ideas at the time came from that.

Sometimes, when I'm stressed or contemplative, I'll jot down ideas for stories or simply just thoughts. The other night, a scenario was laid on my heart. I've probably had the roughest few months of my life lately with just some things going on internally. My heart has been damaged in the process, but I was thinking the other day, "Wow...I really don't know how I would've made it without Him!"

So, I typed this out and sent it to a few friends and family members. I was told I should get it published. I don't know about that, but I felt that I should at least share it with you who are praying and partnering with me. I don't know if you'll find it cheesy or relate to it at all, but hey, we're all sharing in this journey together of partnership and it's only fair that you get to be privy to some of my deepest thoughts.

Enjoy. Or don't. But at least read it ;)

A girl was given a porcelain heart made especially for her by her loving father. Upon receiving it, he told her, "Child, be careful with this. It's very fragile and you can't play with it or else it will break. If it breaks, you could hurt yourself from the glass."  But he knew she was going to play with it anyway, because she was a very stubborn girl.

For a few days, the girl placed the heart on her bookshelf and just looked at it, tempted to take it off and throw it in the air to see what would happen. But she remembered the words of her dad and didn't want to disappoint him.  One day, curiosity got the best of her. Some of her friends had received the same kind of heart from their dads and they played with it everyday. The hearts had chipped and some of the paint had worn off, but they seemed to be fine with it. The girl took the heart off the shelf and threw it in the air, catching it in her hands. It didn't break. It didn't chip. It was fine.

"Well, maybe dad was wrong," the girl thought. "It seems to be perfectly fine to play with it!" 

Soon, she became less careful. She didn't protect it like her father had asked. "He just doesn't want me to have any fun," the girl scoffed. "He made this for me just so I could stare at it all day? How boring!"

She threw it in the air again, hoping to catch it like she had on the first day. But her eyes became distracted for a split second as it flew in the air. She looked away from it and missed catching it as it broke into a million pieces on the floor. A few pieces of the porcelain cut into her arms as it shattered. The girl looked at the mess around her. She remembered her father's words, "...it's very fragile and you can't play with it or else it will break. If it breaks, you could hurt yourself from the glass..."

Tears streamed down her face from the pain of the cuts in her arm and the guilt she felt from disappointing her father. She couldn't hide what she'd done. He'd know that she had disobeyed him. The evidence was all over her room.

With a guilt ridden conscience, she went to her father. One look at her and he knew what had happened. He opened his arms and she ran into them.

"Daddy, I'm so sorry! I know you told me not to play with that but it was so tempting! And all of my friends played with theirs and they didn't get hurt! Look, my arms are so cut up and my fragile heart is destroyed!" She wept into his arms as he held her and let her cry.

"Come on. I'll help you clean up the mess," her father went back with her to her bedroom and carefully began to sweep the shards of porcelain into his hands. The girl watched as he placed them into a plastic bag. He then washed her arms off with antiseptic and she cringed as the dabs of alcohol pierced her cuts. 

"It hurts, Daddy," she cried.

"I know. It will hurt for a while. But I promise it will go away," he assured her.

"When? When will the hurt go away?" 

Her father looked at her, love in his eyes. "It will take time. But I promise, it will heal and I'll make you a new heart."

Everyday, the girl would go to her father, a pained look on her face. "Daddy, it still hurts. These cuts sting so bad!"

"I know, daughter. Remember, it will take time. But I'm here and you can tell me anytime it hurts,"

Time passed. The cuts slowly began to disappear and even though there were a few scars, the pain had long left. The girl examined her scars everyday, hoping for the day when she wouldn't have to look at them anymore. Hoping when they healed completely, they would disappear.

One day, the father came into his daughter's room. She was looking at the empty spot where her porcelain heart used to be, wishing she had just left it there. It was so pretty and she missed it's glow in her room.

"I have a surprise for you," her father interrupted her thoughts. "Look. I've made you a new heart."

He held in his hands a brand new, porcelain heart, this one even more beautiful than the last. 

"Daddy, it's so beautiful! I promise this time I won't play with it! I will leave it on the shelf just like you told me to!" she carefully took it out of his hands and put it on her bookshelf.  She looked up at her father and asked, "Daddy, these scars. Are they ever going to go away? It doesn't hurt anymore, but it's just painful to look at."

"No, they probably won't ever go away," her father kissed the top of her head. "But when people ask you how you got them, you can tell them what happened. And who knows? Maybe they will have the same kind of scars and will need to hear that someone else had a broken heart, too."