
Blessings in Our Brokenness
On the bookshelf in the corner of my bedroom sits a ceramic toad. Yes, a toad. It is nothing great to look at. In fact, it’s dull, dusty, and covered in cracks and globs of yellowed glue. It didn’t start out that way, though. It once was shiny and pristine.
If you asked me when or where I got that toad, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Nor would I be able to tell you why I seemed to like it so much, other than that I was a quirky kid. What I do remember clearly, though, is the day it got broken.








