Sometimes the glass just drops out of your hand and shatters. One minute you are laughing , drying the glass, and the next minute the glass is broken apart lying in a million tiny pieces on the floor . You were careful, you were grasping …. Maybe you even saw it coming .
The yelling , the frustration that has now turned into hurt and offense came out of nowhere. You know you are dropping the glass, it’s slipping , until it completely slides out of your grasp. Busted, broken up and different now .
Where do I find the thanksgiving in that ? It’s an excercise , a stretch … But I do. I offer thanks for the days that are shattered because it’s here in the broken, that I find you .