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There's a Blessing in Being Broken

There's a Blessing in Being Broken

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"Be very careful, these are very old, like Papa." The smile on her face let me know she was joking. Even as a young girl, I could sense the teasing as we set out the beautiful antique angels. "Can I have one?" I asked. "Well, let's see here. This one has a small chip in it. You can have this one. But this other one, that one I will keep."


As Nana showed me the two angels, my fave year old heart sank a little. I wanted the perfect one. The one without the chip. I'm sure she could sense my disappointment, and she responded with a hug. We finished decorating the tree. Antique crystals, tin ornaments, and a sparkling white village underneath, this tree was the most beautiful thing my little eyes had ever seen.


As Nana went into the kitchen to start dinner, I sat on the couch, marveling at our handiwork. Before long, I was down on the floor, staring at the Christmas angels again. I gently picked up "my" angel and examined the chip on its wing. As I looked over at the perfect angel, I longed for that one. I remember thinking to myself that these angels were on the bottom shelf of the coffee table, and Nana rarely got on the floor. My rationale was that she would never notice if I swapped out the angels. I would just place the chipped angel in the same place the perfect one had been.


As I took my new perfect angel upstairs to my room, I felt proud of my little five year old self for being so sneaky. No one would ever know. I placed her on my dresser and busied myself playing in my room.



Later that evening, Nana called me downstairs. Thinking it was a little early for dinner, but typically obedient, I scampered down the stairs. What I found was Nana, with the broken angel in her hand. "Do you know where the other angel is?" she implored. "Yes," I said, head bowed in shame. "Go along now, go get it." Her voiced sounded more disappointed than her face looked.


As I came back a few minutes later with the perfect angel, Nana was sitting on the couch. "Come here, honey," she beckoned. As I slowly made my way to the couch, hot tears ran down my cheek. I'm not sure what felt worse. Deceiving the one person I loved the most in the world, or being caught red handed.


As I braced myself for a harsh punishment, I felt Nana pull me close into a hug. She sat me next to her on the couch, and explained to me how my actions had hurt her. "I never meant to hurt you, Nana!" I exclaimed. "I only wanted the prettier angel!" As she explained to me the lesson all small children need to learn, I can no longer recall the words she used. I do, however recall the feelings they left me with. Remorse. Shame. Forgiveness.


I learned so much in those few moments. It's how I approach my own children now. There's power in a love that forgives, that disciplines. I think of how my heavenly Father approaches me. He is gentle. He is king. But He is just. I'm so thankful for that. That little broken angel reminds me of forgiveness. Now, I think I prefer the broken angel. There's a blessing in being broken.




Rachael Groll

Rachael Groll is a guest editor and author for Warner Press. She is also a Children's and Outreach Pastor at Living Waters Church in Meadville, Pa and is currently promoting her new book, Go: Beginning a Kids Outreach Ministry, available on WarnerPress.org. 

Rachael has shared some of her experiences on social media and her blog,RachaelGroll.org. Networking with children's pastors across the nation, she has helped others start Sidewalk Sunday schools and outreach ministries, and has recently begun a new role in public speaking.