I should have taken it as a sign when we had to run back in for jackets, or when we had trouble extricating my vintage cruiser from the over-stuffed garage, or at the very least, when we suffered a minor accident just a few yards from home.
The evening had called for ice cream, plain and simple.
But ten minutes later, as we careened down narrow sidewalks of the city’s busiest street, I wondered what on earth I had been thinking. There were active railroad tracks to contend with, and the crosswalk light at the corner of Pike Street was glitching. Was I better off with the kids in front of me, in my direct line of vision? Or behind me, where I could buffer them from making a mistake?
I was nervous as a rooster, barking orders, trying to remain calm. We rode past gas stations, fast food restaurants, used car lots, and the ubiquitous Walgreens.
“How did this happen?” I wondered, the wind in my face. Dairy Queen had never felt less worth it.
I was raised by stretches of green and a wide yawning sky. My wild was sticky afternoons with no where to go, drippy orange push-up pops, and forest moss beneath my sneakers. We tended carrot seedlings in a secret garden, crafted make-shift slip-and-slides, and swam in giant plastic trash cans. I never once played with a neighbor because there was no neighbor. So I hid in the forsythia with my brother and caught craw-dads in the creek instead.
It hit me hard — my kids will grow up believing cross-walks and city streets are ordinary. This is the wild that will raise them.
We ate our cones, then rode back home, steering around broken beer bottles on streets most people avoid, the scent of lost hope thick in the air around us. There were men huddled around a car with its hood propped up, bass thumping. There were lonely women eyeing us warily from their porches. There were children smiling, on tricked-out bicycles of their own.
I’m a collector of the discarded and the worn.
I’ve paid cash for five defunct sprinklers because they’re quirky and I’m fond of their rust. I don’t mind taking the quilt that’s fraying at the edges — I prefer it, in fact. The flower pot is chipped? Hand it over. The knob is broken? Sure, because it tells a story.
I’ve chosen to decorate my life with things someone else has rejected. Things that aren’t done living, things that can be bought for a song. They still have something to offer, and maybe I can provide the context to prove it.
Why is it so different with people?
My instinct is to back slowly away from the broken and the hurting. I want to look away. To hide. To pretend life could always be what it was when I was eleven.
I used to think God gave me a unique heart made to love tattered, discarded things. Only now do I see the incompleteness of that belief.
I am called to love broken people. Loving broken things is just a hobby.
My childhood was a dream. It shaped me. I find no fault with it and I’ll always thank my lucky stars. But my kids were called someplace different.
My hope is that the places that still trip me up and make my heart lurch will become their ordinary wild.
My prayer is that they’ll walk with ease to their neighbor’s table and notice early the way shards of amber glass can catch the light.
Leave a Comment
Tami says
The beer bottles where we live are green…a fun, bright color, and fun also when muted a bit as sea glass. I am still wanting to figure out an amazing design that will redeem them, and at least one family from unemployment…
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
I am so obsessed with sea glass! I hadn’t even thought about that parallel. Love your heart here.
Bev @ Walking Well With God says
Shannan,
Broken and well used things have “character”, but broken and used people can be “work”. When I think I don’t have the time or patience for a broken person….I need to look in the mirror and see the brokenness there that the Lord still loves…then pour that love back out. Beautiful reminder this am.!
Blessings,
Bev
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
Yes and Amen. There are people in my life who feel like so much work. And then I look in the mirror…. Uh-oh.
Thanks for seeing my heart in this Bev, as always.
Joanna @ Modern Ruth Project says
Beautiful writing! Love the post!
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
Thank you, Joanna!
Karmen says
So beautiful!
Penny says
Shannan,
By God’s grace and kindness from other’s like yourself, piece by piece I gradually put myself back together. From this I learned not to turn away from those who still are (broken).
I sincerely thank-you ….
Penny
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
Penny – I’m so honored you shared here. There are a few people I love so deeply and I’m begging God to show them his love in a way they can feel it, so they can be put back together. This gives me hope tonight.
dukeslee says
Stunning writing and message. Love this so much. You are walking gospel.
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
JDL, thank you! Oh, the things we could talk about together. (July???)
Sasha A. Palmer says
Beautiful words and images. Love the “light” at the end of the story.
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
The light at the end of the story…I love this.
JeanneTakenaka says
Such a beautiful post, Shannan. I confess, I find it easier to take in broken things than broken people. Broken people hurt. I think I’ve been on both ends of that equation. But God . . . God calls us to love as He does. This is what I’m trying to embrace and encourage my boys to embrace. Loving others when they hurt us. Hurting others often (always?) comes from a place of brokenness. May we have compassion on those around us who are broken.
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
Yes, I feel every word of this. And then I think of the ways I have hurt those around me, people who love me. We are all a work in progress, in desperate need of grace.
Rebecca Jones says
I am sort of like this, I like organized, but I like to see creative people re-purposing objects, I find doing that for people, harder. I really does take God moving on a heart to change it, I can only share my story and words. I could not leave the last angel bear at the store after Christmas. With a bow, after sitting around my house, it made a great baby gift, and a beautiful little puppy ornament with a chipped foot found a home with me. I am what I have heard called an old soul, caring and creative, and tender hearted as God’s wants us to be.
He helps me guard that, and while we may all have different tastes, shabby chic, eclectic, or formal, we can agree to taste and see that the Lord is good.
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
“He helps me guard that” such a lovely truth. Thanks, Rebecca. I can feel your tender soul in your words.
Joanne Peterson says
People can be hard, prickly, inappropriate, hard to love, dysfunctional. But if we strip away the titles, we find they are hurting, wanting to be loved, afraid of love from being hurt, feeling worthless, a hard heart from pain, disappointment and disillusionment. God has been having me ponder deeper of loving the broken is loving Jesus literally. I need to put this into practice with my boys and my daughter, and it can be extremely hard to love them as Jesus loves. But, then I’m being reminded can I again love them so I am loving Jesus literally? Broken people are harder to care for than broken things.
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
Oh, it’s so hard to love our people as cherished image bearers of God!
Julie Joiner says
Oh, Shannan, how well I can relate; I grew up in similar fashion. I do tend to be drawn to all things worn around the edges, but at one time I had such a dread to look at the brokenness in people’s lives. It made me squimish and scared, but God called me to be a counselor. I do believe it was so I could learn to sit with others in their brokenness and shame. It has been a growing experience. I still love quiet, country spaces for renewal. Thanks.
Julie Joiner
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
Yes. I just got to experience a long weekend in the country and it was life to my city-loving bones. Thanks, Julie!
Nancy Ruegg says
I, too, am called to love broken people in our city–to see the light of possibilities within the shards. And sometimes I struggle with that. Thank you, Shannan, for a beautifully written piece that urges us all to embrace the ordinary wild where each of us lives.
Flower Patch Farmgirl says
The ordinary wild!!! Yep. You get me. 🙂
Beth Williams says
Shannan,
I’m drawn to the older objects, music and people. The generation that can get lost on the younger busier youngsters of today. They need love & attention like us, but it takes a lot of patience to deal with them. God calls us to love everyone-as we are all broken people and we all need love!!
Blessings 🙂
Mindy Whipple says
Such an encouragement to bloom in our “ordinary wild” wherever it may be. Broken or chippy – objects or people – draw me in. Maybe because I am broken and chippy too…
Patty Omerza says
I’ve saved your post to read when I have a quiet moment and that moment finally happened this morning…with a cup of coffee and my little Maltese at my side.
I laughed because we seem to be kindred spirits when it comes to appreciating old things that are battered or torn. I love to think of the life they’ve lived and how I can bring them to life again. I just started a Facebook page for my goodies, it’s called Patty’s Attic – feel free to look it up and take a gander!
I fully appreciate your insights on loving broken people. I empathize with other broken people as I’ve had moments in my past that have put cracks in my life too. Thankfully through the grace of God we are made whole again.
Thank you for this fun and insightful post!
God Bless you!
Patty O