The broken ones

A wise person once said:

“Broken people hurt others with their sharp edges”

It’s possibly the most wonderful pearl of wisdom ever dropped in my heart.

I have the privilege of working with broken people and being broken so many times myself. It is rewarding and exhausting and sometimes comes at a price. Whatever injuries I may sustain, I am always drawn back by a passionate desire to prove to that person that no matter how hard they may have fallen, they are worth coming back for.

The difference between empathy and sympathy lies in our brokenness. It is our ability to truly connect through wordless and shared pain, to bridge chasms and forge hope.

I have an amazing and agonizing and brilliantly gorgeous job. It’s more of a calling to be truthful.

I meet people at low and desperate moments, and in dark places. I don’t have a cure, I have only a candle with a thin and vulnerable flame.

As each person shrinks and backs away for a moment, the strains and pressure of the world around them, I stand shoulder to shoulder, plant my feet solidly, press my back firmly against the storm, wrap my arms around them and hold that space as long as it is needed.

I have needed that often in my own life, and been so grateful for those who stayed beside me through that brokenness.

It is a simple and basic act, to lift another up, to be silent and still and with that person completely when they are most alone. It is not about fixing, or curing, rather kneeling next to another when they are down, picking up the pieces that can be found, and seeing the wholeness inside of the broken ones.