I was sitting next to this lady with a styrofoam plate balanced in my hand at one of those pot luck dinners that folks throw together at a moment's notice. She was asking me about my class work as I have been studying to become a counselor, and I was telling her some things about my program and how it's designed to operate for people with full-time jobs.
And then she asked me (as so many do) what area I wanted to specialize in when I graduated. I told her ... and then the next inevitable thing happened. She knew someone who ... and then she described someone who might benefit from therapy, dealing with issues from the past, and so forth.
I was explaining what usually happens in such cases, and she was nodding and so forth, when it hit me. "Everyone knows someone who's broken." A little more thought and it was, "With the hard knocks of life, it's pretty natural for there to be a few cracks here and there."
This kind of conversation gets me to thinking about the cracks in my life, the little (or big) imperfections that I have that might cause me to feel ashamed to take up space in the world.
And then I remember how a miracle happened in my own life - a miracle that took almost a year, and one which showed me that the cracks are the places where life can spring forth. They are the places where I'm not quite so hardened and rigid and still inflexible. They are the soft places that allow the real me to come through instead of the masks I put on me to protect myself. Sure, some people might stumble over that, but it also might give them pause too. Maybe life isn't about looking good or appearing to have it all together. Maybe it's more about letting the cracks show. Maybe it's about letting the life inside grow.
Maybe it's about being real, about being true to who I am and not to what everyone else expects of me. Maybe, just maybe, in letting there be cracks, light and moisture can get in and what is inside can burst forth. It will be messy; that much is sure. But there is life there.
And I really do believe that is worth sharing.
And then she asked me (as so many do) what area I wanted to specialize in when I graduated. I told her ... and then the next inevitable thing happened. She knew someone who ... and then she described someone who might benefit from therapy, dealing with issues from the past, and so forth.
I was explaining what usually happens in such cases, and she was nodding and so forth, when it hit me. "Everyone knows someone who's broken." A little more thought and it was, "With the hard knocks of life, it's pretty natural for there to be a few cracks here and there."
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| Photo "Fresh Green Tree Growing Through Dry Cracked Soil" courtesy of Just2shutter at www.freedigitalphotos.net |
This kind of conversation gets me to thinking about the cracks in my life, the little (or big) imperfections that I have that might cause me to feel ashamed to take up space in the world.
And then I remember how a miracle happened in my own life - a miracle that took almost a year, and one which showed me that the cracks are the places where life can spring forth. They are the places where I'm not quite so hardened and rigid and still inflexible. They are the soft places that allow the real me to come through instead of the masks I put on me to protect myself. Sure, some people might stumble over that, but it also might give them pause too. Maybe life isn't about looking good or appearing to have it all together. Maybe it's more about letting the cracks show. Maybe it's about letting the life inside grow.
Maybe it's about being real, about being true to who I am and not to what everyone else expects of me. Maybe, just maybe, in letting there be cracks, light and moisture can get in and what is inside can burst forth. It will be messy; that much is sure. But there is life there.
And I really do believe that is worth sharing.
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