Whole & Broken

It always seems to me a wee bit tragic to crack eggs open.

Whole, they are perfection.

I love their shape, their range of calm colors,

the way their matte shells play with light,

their smooth roundness in my hands.

But,

whether they are fertilized and warmed

or cartoned and chilled,

they only fulfill their destiny of nourishment 

when they're broken. 

I've been thinking about forgiveness.

My friend Julie told me that I need to forgive someone.

She's right. 

We often hear how we need to forgive

in order to be whole. 

That's true.

But why does forgiveness feel like 

breaking open

when someone has really, really hurt me

and hasn't asked for pardon

even when I tried to move

toward restoration?

Maybe my silent breaking

will nourish a chance of new life

for that person.

Maybe that freedom from who I want her to be,

my making peace with who she is,

is as much about 

her redemption 

as it is 

about mine?

I'm thinking,

maybe,

it's good to be 

cracked.