A week and a day ago a valued item was broken by my children. It was a sturdy stick horse that I had gotten at an antique shop years ago. I had gotten it on a trip visiting my late grandma, and I had hand carried it on the plane back to Hawaii. It was a dream come true to see my children enjoying it and knowing that decades before they existed I had been thinking about them.

Today it was a favorite mug that my sister had given me over ten years ago when I first started teaching with her. It was one of those cups that tapered towards the base and was painted in soft greens with pastel daisies delicately painted on it. Psalm 29:11 flowed in pretty lettering underneath them. Drinking from it connected me with her and it brought a familiar closeness I could depend on each morning.

I know the rote reminders that we shouldn’t value things above people, that we shouldn’t lay up treasure where moths and rust and (children’s fingers) destroy, that the memories are still there. But I still wept. I wept, not for the things, but for the reminder that life is temporary and the memories can be remembered but not relived. Those tangible links kept them closer and now that they are broken the past feels farther away.

I wept because at times I feel invisible. I cultivate and nurture and tend and ponder and work to make my home a cozy, safe, thriving place. And when things I especially value come crashing down my efforts feel futile: who is tending me? For me it was a toy horse and a coffee cup. But I’m sure we all have those treasures that break: dreams, hopes, business efforts, a pet, a friendship, plans, things, or hearts. When they come crashing down it’s like an arrow has found a chink in our armor of best intentions and our humanity bleeds out.

I’m going to rally. I swept up the broken pieces, dried my tears, and took the children outside. It still hurts and the empty spot in my cupboard stings. But when I’m standing before the throne of Jesus it won’t even cross my mind. When earth and eternity merge…