Broken Things and Mended Wounds

“Who broke you?”

I was broken by my family when I was 3 or 4 and my father put a tape on my babbling mouth as mother and he couldn’t sleep. I cried in silence for the first time.

I was broken by my friends when I was around 13 or 14 and they sided with the other friend while all my classmates looked on without offering sympathy. I cried alone in a public place for the first time.

I was broken by love when a friend of mine, an average man, offers his friendship conditionally, only when I fit his ideals and cannot love the whole me. I smile but my heart aches constantly.

I was broken, being broken, and will be broken by these three repeatedly, unabashedly, unknowingly; I can’t believe I still survive.

The power of three is truly formidable to me.

For in the lowest point of my life, when I am at the crossroads, a man in white approached me to point me at the right direction and accompany me there.

A man in grey opened the door to welcome me home and let me in the comforts of their abode.

A man in gold hugged me tightly and caressed my hair as I cried “Where have you been all my life? I’ve been waiting for you for so long!”

In the Holy Trinity I was made whole again.

In turmoil and trials, in pain and sadness, in bouts of depression and negativity I will always run to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. They will never turn away from me no matter what.


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