The day after Memorial Day is a strange time to be thinking of Christmas, but that's where my mind went this morning. I remember a particular Christmas when I was a young child. It was a rare holiday where I was to open my presents at my Ma Woody and Papa's. I had a habit of shaking my presents and trying to figure out what was in them, and that year my mother got me good. I picked up a square wrapped box and began to shake. I heard a horrible noise, and my mother made a face and said that I'd broken it. I freaked, but when I unwrapped the present later it turned out I hadn't broken anything. The present was a box of 1000 BBs to go with the BB gun I also received that year. I felt so relieved, because something within me knew that if the gift had indeed been fragile and making that noise that it would've been broken beyond repair.
Our lives are a gift from God, and it doesn't take long before life and other people have shaken us into 1000 little pieces. It may appear and feel as though there is no hope for repair. Like the saying goes, "All the king's horses and all the king's men ain't got no hope of putting my pieces back together again." But the King can. No matter how badly we've been shaken. Regardless of how many little pieces we've been shattered into, there is hope. There is restoration in the surrender to the King.
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