Remember.

Some gifts are held so tightly they break.

Several years ago, my friend Paula gave me a beautiful communion set as a housewarming gift. She came with all the essentials needed for communion… the juice, the bread, and a little bit of time to sit and ponder. Along with a few other friends, we shared this special gift with one another.

Afterward, to protect the fragile wine glass from breaking, I stored it in a cabinet that didn’t get much use. I wanted it close by so I could use it, but tucked away safe enough to keep it from being hit by the other items in the same cabinet. I had always meant to get a box for greater protection, but it just never happened. It has sat safely in its spot for quite some time now. Actually, it’s been there for years.

The other day, I opened the door and realized the cabinet had become too full to keep the wine glass adequately protected. I took the precious gift and set it up on the countertop to keep it from being broken and to remind me to finally get a box with foam to better protect it. Maybe I’ll actually do communion with it tonight, I thought.

I also thought, He better not knock this over and break it, referring to my husband who can be like a bull in a china cabinet. I set it to the side and moved forward in my day, never getting to that communion time.

With each day that went by, came a silent commitment to finding the time to sit quietly and commune with Jesus. I wanted to do it right. I would need some juice, a cracker, and dedicated time to remember what my faith is all based on.

On the fourth and final day, my hand swept past it, knocking it to the floor. The very moment I heard the crash of glass on the floor, time caught up with me. I’d never done it. Not only had I not done it that week, but since receiving this gift, I’d never once experienced it for the beautiful purpose it had. I’d simply kept it hidden away for fear of breaking it. And then, when I did bring it out, I had been so concerned with my husband breaking it, that it had never really occurred to me that I’d be the one responsible for the breakage. I was the protector, the fixer, the do-er. Not the shatterer.

Tiny shards of glass were everywhere on the floor. I couldn’t find my dustpan and had to get to my appointment I was already running late for. I ran out the door, leaving the mess for later.

I thought about it all day. I felt the pain of what was once so beautiful now lying on the floor, shattered into tiny pieces. I know from experience if not cleaned properly that those tiny shards of glass would find their way into our feet over the coming days/weeks. Even with the right cleanup, we’d be finding the glass for weeks to come. It’s just how it is.

When I came home later in the day, Scott had thoroughly swept it all up. This act alone shifted something in my spirit.

It is inevitable that we will experience an occasional poke in the foot by a small remnant of my neglect. And the reminder may sting.

Nevertheless, my beautiful communion set is now on display in the living room.

It is still, if not even more so, a beautiful cup of remembrance of what my faith is based on.

Grace, Mercy, and Forgiveness. And that sometimes I must give these gifts to myself.

It is also a reminder to protect that which is fragile but to loosen my grip so as to enjoy its beauty.