The One Where She Breaks the Tea Cannister

Our daughter broke our tea holder today; the first glass item broken since she’s become a mobile explorer rivaling the likes of Lewis and Clark.

I quickly scooped her up from the glass shards gathered around her, inspecting her bare little feet to make sure she wasn’t cut, and hugged her close. “It’s okay,” I told her, kissing her sweet chubby cheeks. “You are worth so much more than that.”

Pouring blueberries on her tray, I stuck our best girl in her high chair and the dog in his crate before moving to get the broom and gathering the fragments scattered across the floor.

I wasn’t mad. This was not a big deal. It was actually incredibly minor. Susannah Jane is not a burden.

And God, our best Parent, is not mad at us for breaking things. He understands our frailty. He’s not shaken by our foibles. He knows our little hands and unstable body will attempt things too big for us and inevitably shatter a few things in the process. He knows we are growing and uncoordinated and prone to wobble and fall. And as Joe Rigney says, “He is not frustrated by our finitude.”

He loves us no less in our wreckage. His heart is actually drawn to us in it. He cares for us more than anything we might break.

And in the breaking of that cheap, decade-old tea holder from TJ Maxx, it actually broke open the opportunity for deeper cleaning. I’ve been keeping the house pretty much spotless for real estate showings but the far recesses under the coffee counter was out of sight out of mind from my obsessive cleaning. But that all changed when little glass shards that could pierce my baby’s feet entered the picture. Only then did I move the coffee bar to sweep, vacuum, and mop up any possibility of damage to her.

As she happily snacked while I cleaned the glass and now, a few hours later, as she’s peacefully napping, the broken tea holder is not a thought in her adorable head. She’s not wringing her hands wondering if we will still love her or if she can somehow make it up to us to make sure she earns her place in the family. It would absolutely crush me if she was!

But she’s literally not losing sleep over this and I won’t either.

She’s resting. She’s snacking. She’s making lion noises and blissfully enjoying books and music and her crazy puppy. She’s enjoying the security of family not defined by her merit.

Oh may my heart, so prone to wander into asserting self-sufficiency and the illusion of perfection to prove my worth, learn from my sweet baby and rest in the truth of God’s love for me as His beloved child.

And, friend, whatever breaking you feel today, may the truth of your known-and-lovedness be the pillow for your weary heart. The Perfect Parent sees you, knows you, and loves you more than you could dream.