Life: Broken Pieces of Glass

I am dedicating this post to each one out there who belongs to a broken family.

I spent Christmas thinking about my life, what I need to change, what I need to maintain.

I am 28 now. For the most part of those almost three decades of existence, the only thing I wanted was a real home. I grew up seeing my parents fight over the pettiest to the most important decisions, throwing painful words at each other. You see the respect and love they had for one another slip away, one piece at a time. And you can guess that by this time, they just looked like two old volcanoes erupting almost everyday. Love and respect almost totally gone.

We've done almost everything we could--prayer, shed tears, talk to them (calmly to angrily), leave the house. Name all the drama you can think of. We spent so many days not wanting to go home. Or waking up to a new problem or drama the next day.

But for some unknown reason, I'd regard this as a miracle, my siblings and I somehow survived with our hearts bruised but our sanity intact.

But why am I telling you all these? Because while I know my sister is still praying for a miracle, I'm deciding to pray for something else.

I would compare my family to a broken glass. Too much energies have been spent trying to put back the pieces, when the two most important piece would not really want to be mended. So the pieces of broken glass remain lying that way.

Now, I will no longer make any efforts to put the broken glass together. But I promise to love each broken piece of glass, because each one is a loved one who took care of me and somehow molded me into who I am now. I will love each broken piece, and even if it cuts and injures me, I will no longer run away.

And if someone asks to meet my family, I will not present a typical family -- one that is whole. I will introduce him to each broken piece of glass. And if he can love each broken piece, I included, then, he's the one.