Desiring revenge, or at least justice is something I am very familiar with.  Like most people I have been hurt by others, deliberately and seriously.  I have wanted them to at least understand how much pain they've caused and the fact that they caused it, and at worst . .  .well, you understand.  Being very tender-hearted, I get hurt easily, and carry it with me a long time.  In spite of my sensitivity, I have had things happen which would deeply hurt anyone.

I'm also very sentimental.  I suffer from two kinds of sentiment.  I treasure things that people I love have touched, or had, or have done with me, which includes just about everything.  But then there are the very special, important sentimental things, like the three ceramic wise men my mom made in Puerto Rico and which celebrated each Christmas with my family ever since I was a child.  They are very special to me, as are many of my cherished Christmas decorations.  So I have a major rule during Christmas: No throwing anything or roughhousing in the house. 

A week ago, I caught one of my boys throwing his new football in the living room, and he received the command to go outside.  Not wanting to go that far, he went to the hall, where he knocked one of my mother's kings off the shelf.  He came crying to me, telling me over and over how sorry he was.  I confess I raised my voice for a few minutes, but then I looked in his eyes.  I saw how afraid he was because he knew how special this decoration was to me.  As this broken king cried for justice, I stood at a crossroads, and I knew it.  Compassion (and the Holy Spirit) washed over me, and I pulled him close and told him that although I was disappointed that he disobeyed me and broke the king, I loved him so much more and would of course forgive him.

It has brought to my mind the fact that people are broken too.  I was broken, and maybe still am in some places.  It is easy to stand and cry to God the Potter for justice.  "Break them, like they've broken me!" I cry.  But when I demand that, I forget that God just might be looking into the eyes of a scared child.  He sees their heart, and knows that they are aware at the deepest level of their offenses.  He also knows that He has the power to fix broken me, and He longs to extend mercy to the offender.  Just as I pulled Stephen close and taught him just a little more how extreme my love is for him, God longs to pull my ex-husband close and to whisper words of love to him.  And if He chooses to do that, I must trust Him.

Tonight I glued the king together again.  There were still cracks and places where the paint had chipped off.  God doesn't fix things like that.  He will put me back together, and I will be whole . . . even better than I was.  I pray He will put my broken ex-husband together again too, with His love and mercy, and with His forgiveness.

I told Stephen tonight that when he is grown, if those kings are still around, I want him to have them.  I want him to remember how much his mommy loved him.  I need to remember how much my Father loves me too  . . . when I see in people the cracks.