Throughout my life, I’ve traveled past myriad straight, even people—the perfect, solid fence posts. Each guarding a territory, surrounding, protecting, being useful.
But it’s those people that have been pushed over, beaten down, broken that mark the landscape, draw my eye, quietly call for additional investigation.
What is it about the people that have faced the worst life can throw at them and—slightly crooked, bent, perhaps chipped on all sides—still stand? What is it about them that makes them stand regardless of the compelling forces around them? What is it about their combination of grit and brokenness that makes them beautiful?
To be fully honest, my deepest desire is to avoid the things that might strain me. But I know full well the impossibility of that hope.
And so knowing, I study the standing broken, hoping beyond hope that when life comes, stomping, beating, blistering, that I too will stand. Beautiful if broken.