Shattered

I often imagine when Justin and I married, we looked at each other through shattered glass. When I gazed at him, I only saw fragmented pieces and tried to fit the other pieces to form the man I thought I married. I brought my preconceived ideas about men, and he brought his about women when he looked at me through the glass's other side. We envisioned what we loved about each other but, in reality, only were seeing the pieces that fit based on our childhoods, past failures, and faulty preconceptions.

Then, the unthinkable happened. The glass fell to the ground in pieces! I saw him. He saw me. Every single good, bad, and ugly part was visible. The crazy ideas we had about each other were exposed along with what we really looked like. It was excruciating. It was embarrasing. It was shameful.

And it was liberating!

This shattered glass metaphor is similar to what really happened in our marriage. When Justin fell, he hit the glass on the way down. It was the best worst thing that ever happened to us, too, because now we aren't partially blinded by our pasts, previous mistakes, or preconceived notions of whom we were supposed to marry. We see each other's bare naked soul and accept it, weaknesses and all.

I am thankful for the shattered glass lying all around, and I will never try to pick up the pieces. They will lie there as a reminder of what we once were and, prayerfully, never will be again.