Lately, I’ve been sitting with so many people facing profound health challenges – bodies failing, abilities fading, energy disappearing.
Yet, in the midst of their fragility, their spirit shines brighter than most of us ever allow ours to. Somehow, in their breaking, they become more whole. Their very presence helps the rest of us see God more clearly.
It reminds me of kintsugi – the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery using lacquer mixed with powdered gold. Instead of discarding what has been shattered, kintsugi restores it with gold – not to hide the damage, but to magnify it. And, in the process, often makes the piece stronger and more resilient.
The cracks aren’t hidden. They’re honoured. The brokenness isn’t painted over, it’s illuminated. The piece doesn’t become worthless,
it becomes more precious and dignified, because of what it survived.
Kintsugi whispers your wounds can become your wisdom. Your fractures can become your strength. Your story doesn’t need to be concealed – it can be redeemed and celebrated.
Maybe that’s the invitation for all of us:
To stop pretending we haven’t been cracked. To stop apologizing for the places life has split us open.
When I allowed myself to be open to being broken after the cancers, the breaking taught me the courage I didn’t know I had, the compassion I could only learn from pain and the faith I forged when nothing made sense. What beautiful gifts.
The wound isn’t the weakness —
the wound is the doorway. Embrace it!
