Scars make us real.

In days gone by I, like most of us, have had many times when funds were extremely tight. During one of those times, Jo-Ann fabrics came out with a line of decorative accessories that included a cast plastic cat/birdhouse. Who knows why, but I fell madly in love with that thing. I was picking up a little money here and there doing alterations at that time, so I had occasion to go there often, and I kept eyeballing this cat. But the price tag (it’s still on the bottom) was $39.99 and that was just completely out of the question. So every week I’d go and look at it, and covet it. Finally, they had only ONE cat left, and they marked it down 75%. I think I also had a “percent off your purchase” coupon. At long last, I brought that cat home. It has no real monetary value, but because of the story, it has value to me.

This weekend, my two year old asked if he could “see kitty cat?” and I said yes. As he very carefully used two hands to lower it to the floor, it slipped out of his hands. It smashed. I had a bit of a moment. “Oh no!” my little boy said, and I looked at him. “Oh no!”

And I said, “Don’t worry, sweetie, we can fix it.” So I did. It took a whole tube of superglue, and some patience. But the faux distressed finish is hiding most of the scars and now it has two stories. The story of the day I finally got to have something that I thought would be forever out of reach, and the story of the rainy day when I tried to make my little boy happy for a few minutes, and taught him that you can put almost anything back together instead.

Besides, I think I like it better this way. My boys (and I) can do worse than to learn that sometimes it’s okay to be broken. It’s okay to put yourself back together again the best you can. It’s okay to have scars.

How about you? Are you broken sometimes? Won’t you follow me on twitter?