Once upon a time there was a ceramic heart that got broken. It was her prized treasure. She’d had it since birth. It contained every piece of her personality. It contained her memories. It contained her wants and needs. It contained how she related to people, and how they had treated her. It was everything she was. It was her.
It made her laugh when she looked inside. She remembered that Christmas she had been so down in the dumps, and danced so crazily in the house to wild music, and only she and God had watched. She remembered all the times she had climbed up high in her butternut tree, looking at the Black Hills in the distance. She remembered sunlight and shadows, and her mom reading to her and her brother beneath that tree.
She looked inside the ceramic heart and saw her personality. There was the sass and the spunk. There was the love to be in the spotlight and the life of the party, laughing and making everyone laugh. There were the stories she loved to tell–all those anecdotes she told whenever she got a chance. There was her knack at teaching people whatever she herself loved. There was her knack at making people feel loved and accepted. There was her stubborn nature that had got her through many a tight spot when she’d wanted to give up.
But now that the ceramic heart was broken, and everything inside was fractured. And the girl was so afraid her treasure was ruined.
The girl tried to piece it together. She tried glue (that didn’t work). She tried rope, embroidery thread, a bit of knitting creativity… nothing worked. The girl was achingly frustrated. She didn’t know what to do. The words that came out of the ceramic heart were now nasty words.
“You are worthless. No one will ever want you.”
“You messed up. You failed. And you’ll never be able to pick up the pieces again.”
“Your heart is so screwed up now. It’s your fault your treasure–your heart–got broken. See that gal friend of yours? She didn’t get her heart broken. She made good choices. You haven’t.”
“You are a stupid girl. You are a jerk, and everything they said about you was true. They were right to throw you out of their lives.”
Yup, that was a lot of junk. No wonder her ceramic heart got broken.
And the glue wasn’t working.
But then she tried words (magic words). And since they were magic words, they worked. Little by little, her heart began to heal.
It began with who she was. You see, when her ceramic heart was broken, she forgot who she was. She forgot the truth the people who had truly loved her had spoken into her life. And she needed to renew that, as her gal friend reminded her.
“I am loved,” she told herself.
“I am special and unique. I am God’s poem–His workmanship.”
Little by little, her ceramic treasure began to mend. Next, she began to modify her world. She knew if she didn’t do this, she’d take a nosedive. She found activities that lifted her spirits. She spent time with the people who had known and loved her for a long time, and spoke truth into her life.
As her ceramic heart began to be pieced together by the magic, she found it looked different than it originally had. It wasn’t the same, and it wasn’t what she had envisioned for her future, but it was still beautiful, and she had to trust that this was God’s best for her.
Little by little, the magic made her treasure well again.
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“Following Your Feet, A Young Woman’s Journey”
Page Count: 287 (Second Edition)