After writing the post last night, I was talking with kl1964, and for the second time this week the topic of mosaics came up. (The other time was in a conversation with my dad, and I don't remember the conversation. I don't think it was relevant to this, but the term was the same.) It occurred to me as we were talking that it is the natural thing to want broken places in life to heal and be good as new. But more often than not, they remain broken but are made into beautiful places as they become part of a tapestry of things that get painted over and turned into the groundwork for positive character traits in my life.
kl1964 had never done any work with mosaics. My first experience was as a camper when I was 11 or 12 years old. I dismissed the experience because I thought it was a silly kid craft. I later learned it wasn't. I learned it because my mom brought home these unpainted flour pots and bags of broken glass to glue all over the outside of them. We firred the glass pieces together randomly in oddball patterns, and in the fitting process the sharp edges were no longer exposed. After this was done, Mom painted the pots. But if I touched them, I could tell that they were made with broken pieces because I'm used to examining things tactually and I notice that much detail. People looking visually would probably notice, too: "That's mosaic." But it wouldn't occur to reject the pot that was made that way. It was supposed to be made that way. The broken pieces were chosen on purpose to create the beautiful effect.
So perhaps my life becomes a mosaic. Not that it is broken on purpose; but that the broken places don't have to make me vulnerable to rejection. I am still myself, especially if I don't let the sharp edges in the broken places define me. It's not an easy task, but it is something that can be done with God's help, good therapy, and lots of support.