Finding Purpose in the Pieces Life Tried to Shatter
(From the Built To Be A Butterfly Vault)
I have always loved antique glassware.
Delicate pink depression glass, vintage crystal, elegant serving pieces that once sat on family tables long before I was born — there is something beautiful about objects that have survived generations and still catch the light so gracefully.
A few years ago, while wandering through a small antique shop, I found a pale green sugar and creamer set resting on its original glass tray.
I was instantly drawn to it.
The color was beautiful.
The set was rare.
And the price was surprisingly reasonable.
I could already picture it sitting on my holiday table.
Then I noticed the tray.
One delicate corner of the glass had been chipped away.
Suddenly, all I could see was the damage.
Disappointed, I placed the set back on the shelf and walked away.
But as I wandered through the store, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Eventually, I returned and picked it up again.
The sugar bowl was still beautiful.
The creamer still served its purpose.
The glass still shimmered when it caught the light.
And somehow, in all my disappointment over one broken edge, I had completely overlooked the beauty and usefulness that still remained.
That realization settled deeply into my heart.
How often do we do that to ourselves?
We focus so intensely on the chipped places, the cracks, the wounds, the disappointments, and the scars that we begin to believe our brokenness is the most important thing about us.
But brokenness is not the whole story.
In fact, most people never notice the flaws we obsess over so relentlessly. They simply experience the warmth we offer, the kindness we extend, the comfort we bring, the love we pour into ordinary moments.
The antique set came home with me that day.
And do you know what I discovered?
No one ever comments on the broken corner.
They gather around the table.
They laugh.
They cry.
They share stories.
And all the while, that little sugar and creamer set continues quietly serving its purpose.
Perhaps people are a little like that too.
The truth is, we do not become chipped and cracked by sitting safely on a shelf, untouched by life. We are shaped through living, loving, grieving, sacrificing, serving, and surviving.
And yet, despite our wounds, we still carry beauty.
We still carry value.
We still have something meaningful to offer this world.
Scripture reminds us that God is near to the brokenhearted.
I think that means He does not recoil from our damaged places the way we often do. He sees beyond the cracks. He sees what still shines beneath them.
And maybe healing is not always about becoming flawless again.
Maybe sometimes healing looks like being willing to step back into life despite the imperfections — trusting that grace can still make something beautiful of us.
There will always be reasons to hide safely on the shelf.
To believe we are too damaged.
Too weak.
Too worn down.
Too imperfect to be useful.
But broken things can still hold beauty.
And wounded hearts can still pour love into others.
Perhaps that is part of redemption itself.
Not pretending the cracks never existed…
but discovering that they never disqualified us from being loved, chosen, or beautifully used in the first place.
Keep Becoming!
