As the glass fell to the floor I realized that I would have a mess on my hands. Picking up the pieces would be challenging, almost painful. This would take a lot longer than expected. It was in that moment that I realized that the glass was not the only thing that was broken.
As I stared at the broken pieces of glass scattered on the kitchen floor. I noticed that the beauty of my glass was now nothing but jagged pieces. It was time to clean up and I didn’t know where to begin.
Those glass pieces resembled my life. And every time I worked hard to carefully put my broken pieces back together again. You appear out of nowhere, making every attempt to break me again. I’ll always love hard, work hard and be strong. You may shatter me but I will always rise. I gain strength every time I am made whole again. I love hard and if that is a crime. I’m guilty.
A Woman's Work - Brooke Basically Blogging 