Everyday we pick up the pieces of our mistakes.
Today, I was picking up broken glass. Literally.
Because I got into another car accident. Luckily both parties are not harmed and there is not major damage to my already scratched up car, and surprisingly I was not at fault this time. I don't want to get into details, but it was a bad day.
Another phone call home, the same words again, the same tears and the same answers. It seems like every mistake that puts me back a step is the same one I am always making over and over, and I can't shake it. Its like my gaurdian angel doesn't even want to sit in a car with me, so he's not even there when I'm driving. And with every mistake, my life falls apart again.
So much so, that I've become accustomed to picking up those pieces, whether their metaphorical, or literal pieces of glass.
But today I learned something. It was the in the concern of my friends, who worried about me, hugged me, made me smile, or listened to me talk. It was in the concern of my parents, and the way they jumped up ready to fix this new problem without a second thought, or a word of anger or frustration. It was in the "Don't worry too much about it" and the "Are you okay?" s from everyone I love. It was in the cop who watched me cry and said, "tell your parents that they call it an accident for a reason..."
In all of this I saw that I didn't have to pick up the broken glass by myself. That there will always be people around who, when life shatters, stop what their doing to help you reassemble yourself. Why we do this we will never know. Only God knows why it is that our capacity to love is much greater than we could ever imagine. We as human beings are flawed, imperfect, and blemished... But we as humans beings can love with compassion, strength, beauty, and perfection. It is this agape that makes us turn around when we hear glass shatter. It makes us forget what we were thinking about if only for a moment, to pick up a piece and hand it back to someone who dropped it.
I am forever grateful to everyone who picks up my pieces, and they don't have to be told that I fall apart often. I think that's why they're always looking out for the next sign of an accident, whether its in a car, or somewhere else, keeping an eye on me in case they have to catch me. I hope they know the love they have shown me does not go unnoticed, but it is instead locked away deep in my heart, waiting to help if anyone else needs help picking up their broken glass.