I drank from the very same coffee cup for over ten years. It went with me everywhere. Everyone in the house knew not to put it in the dishwasher because it had to be always at the ready.

I will readily admit that I was probably overly attached to an inanimate object. But it had been with me through ten years of life.

A miscarriage.

A painful place of ministry.

A near death experience.

Moving.

Moving.

And moving again.

Broken relationships.

Betrayal.

Goodbyes and missteps.

Just plain life.

That cup had been through it all with me and it had a thousand tiny cracks to prove it.

All of the cracks were on the inside; on the outside, the cup appeared fine. So, we just continued on – my coffee mug and me.

Then, the other day, I went to place the mug on the Keurig and I placed it just the slightest bit off the platform. In an instant, the cup fell over, hit the counter and, just like that, my friend was gone.

It was a break that had been a long time coming. It was not completely unexpected and, yet, was somehow a surprise all the same. It was the final letting go of many things. I had been holding onto hurt feelings and old wounds just as tightly as I had that mug. The person who gave it to me was no longer in my life and her absence was evident with each refilling of the cup.

Oh, but friend, brokenness is never the end of the story. Just two days later, I walked into church and there was a gift bag on my pew. In the bag was one of the most beautiful gifts imaginable.

A sweet lady saw that something was broken and she cared enough to restore it. She didn’t have to know the history of the mug or the cause of the countless cracks.

All too often, we fear brokenness. We try to keep our distance from broken people. We attempt, at all costs, to remain unbroken ourselves.

Thankfully, there are people brave enough to engage the broken. To come alongside and restore what they can. To show us that there are fresh starts and new beginnings.

Now, when I take that first sip of morning coffee, I see beauty where there was once brokenness. I see restoration where there was once loss. And I am reminded that, in Christ, all things are made new.

Be brave enough, sweet ones, to engage the broken. You don’t have to know the cause of all the cracks. You may never know the storms that another woman has weathered. But the smallest act of kindness on your part can be the reason another woman makes it through another day.

You are so very loved.