I have a bucket of broken things. It isn’t full, there is still a lot of life yet, but the bucket is heavy anyway. I stare at it. Push it away with my foot and glare at it. Of course it doesn’t budge. It’s mine. Full of all the broken things my life has collected: broken dreams, broken hearts, broken hopes, broken starts. I stare at it a little longer, knowing its weight without even picking it up. Then I lean over, wrap my fists around the metal handle and drag it to Jesus. I’m tired of carrying this bucket alone. I can almost hear him ask the question as I sink to sit on the step beside him: ‘What have you got there?’
‘It’s my bucket’, I reply. ‘My bucket of broken things’. Gingerly, as if I’m scared I too will break, I lift each thing from the bucket to show him. I turn them over in my fingers. I can feel the cracks, re-live the pain. They still hurt, these things. Some more than others. Some more than the others combined. I cup my hands around the hurt, the disappointment, betrayal, confusion, dismay, disunity, suffering and angst. I hold each piece with a trembling grip, whispering questions I’ve been too afraid to admit I have. Because I know Jesus cares for me. He cares far more than I can understand, and he knows I will never fully understand, no matter how hard I try. Somehow, knowing this gives me courage. Through a blur of tears, I place my broken things into his hands. ‘Take care of these?’ I dare to ask. Then I lean on his shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut. Why? Because more than anyone else, this Jesus, he gets broken things. He loved and was betrayed, he hoped and was let down. He dreamed and saw reality unfold in way that broke his heart. I can’t see it, but I can hear him. Taking my things. Healing them. Some he fixes straight away, others he turns upside down. For each one there is a specific answer. He transforms, restores, sets right and renews. But not always. Some things... Yes, some things I must leave with Jesus. Today, tomorrow and for ever. Unmended, but held. Hurting, but heard. Broken, but loved. I have a bucket of broken things. But it’s a bucket I need never carry alone. ‘Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.’ 1 Peter 5:7
2 Comments
13/1/2025 08:39:35 am
Penny,
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Jacqui Conlon
13/1/2025 04:28:07 pm
thank you, Penny. that's a beautiful way of dealing with the hard, broken things. My strategy is often to try to ignore them, pretend they didn't happen, or say something stupid to change the mood. trouble is, they don't go way but lurk in the darkness waiting to grab, discourage, condemn. thanks for your insight, and for sharing your process of writing a story.
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The Penny DropsIn high school I used to write what I'd call 'thinks' - little bits of writing about whatever topic or issue I was mulling over at the time. I still write these little pieces. Categories
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