Journeying to Grace

I was blessed to have spent my 15^th birthday in Vienna, Austria. I remember it was a Monday, and our family went out for Hungarian goulash. The only disappointment was the band that regularly played at the restaurant was off on Mondays. In Vienna, we visited extraordinary sites of course. While we toured, my father, the history professor and classical pianist, informed us about the Habsburgs of Schönbrunn Palace and all things Mozart. Our prayerful time in St. Stephen’s Cathedral was also very special.

As they did on trips to other European cities, my parents purchased a porcelain tile keepsake with scenes of Vienna. This tile made its way from Vienna to my parents’ house. Many, many years later, my daughter took it to her house 4+ hours away to hold for me. At a family gathering sometime later, she traveled those 4+ hours with it again to bring to me.

While I was in my hotel room, I unwrapped the tile to take a look and then set it on the bed. I can’t remember why I got up, but I did. When I sat back down (not paying attention), I slanted the mattress so that the tile quickly slid off the slick bedspread and landed on the floor—in three pieces. In just under 40 years, the tile had traveled multiple miles to multiple places safely. It’s in my possession for five minutes and is broken. I was so upset.

Thanks to a dear friend and coworker (who, among many other talents, is proficient in making large and small repairs), the tile was put back together. With immense care, my friend gently adhered the broken pieces, so all the small, jagged edges fit back in place. The tile is one piece again, but the seam of repair is visible. This could not be helped. Looking closely, one can see the tile has been broken then mended.

The appearance of this tile has resonated with me recently:  Broken pieces mended with attentive care but with a slight, visible ‘scar.’ I find the image to be a comfort. In recent months, there have been some occasions of loss and brokenness for me and for people I care about. The pieces, the hearts that have been broken will never be the same as before. They will never be together exactly as they once were. But with prayer, in trust, and through the gift of the immense and attentive care of others, those broken pieces can begin the healing journey toward being mended.

The prayerful work of putting the pieces back together will still likely leave a permanent scar. Yet the scar/seam/repair does not diminish the memory or the experience or the joy. It is where the mending and healing exists, where strengthening has taken place, and where the love of God and the love of others hold everything together.