Dear Broken Soul,

I know you've come to your end. Broken glass of what used to be so beautifully put together remains shattered in pieces on the floor. All your could have beens, wish you had dones, and all the undoing you wish you could do seem to pile up to the sky. Your heart feels as though it has far exceeded its fair share of unmistakable gashes, losses, and scars to the point of a numbing emotionless state of barely getting by. When will it all end? I wish I could tell you. The face in the mirror is one you don't recognize, nor do you come close to liking those hollow eyes staring back at you. Yet the smile you fake to all the passers by is a mask that is crumbling to pieces in your hands. You want to run away but you know your shadow will follow; you want to escape this madness and loneliness yet there really is no where to go. All is lost. But is it really?

What if I could tell you that I know a carpenter who has fixed far worse messes than yours? As I stare at a broken piece of a mirror, something once whole able to capture images so well only to be a fragment of what it once was intended to be, I cannot help but relate. I often feel like broken glass; a mess of something only reminding me of nothings. Yet the thought occurred to me, though it is broken does it not still remain able to reflect light? Though it's broken, there still yet seems to be a sort of wholeness. Many onlookers gaze upon the beauty of stained glass with complete ignorance of the process taken place in order for the beautiful view before them to be possible. It's all broken glass. Manipulated, broken, burned, cracked, stained, and fuzed to other broken, shattered remains. Though separate, each piece seems merely as a painful, hopeless reminder of what it could have been and all its been through, however, looking upon it in its final state, all would agree it to be beautiful, purposeful, strong, and whole. This conclusion only comes to be after one witnesses the amazing sight of the allowance of pure light cascading through its entirety.

Only after the process of being broken could the full beauty of the light be expressed. Though apart, light could stand on its own. Yet in perfect surrender to the infusion of light, the broken could project the strength and life of the light to all. Presently pain, longing, numbness rock your core. However, a night of this sort is always renewed as a morning rises anew. So take heart dear Love, your story hasn't ended here but has simply turned a new chapter your heart is shaking to accept and explore. Your worth it. Your worthy. Your enough. Your loved. Your destiny is bright and awaiting you. Know I'm over here cheering for you as you take a new step into The More.