Sometimes, our hearts break in a way where it feels like the edges are too sharp to let anyone else near them, too jagged to get anywhere past our own ribcages. And the world moves too fast for us to be able to try and carefully put it back together, so we haphazardly collect the pieces and do our best with bleeding fingers to duct-tape it back together into something whole. 

But the edges stay sharp, and the tape can never hold for long, and soon enough the pieces are rattling around inside a chest that feels more and more hollowed out each day.

“Won’t you let me see it?” the Lord will prod us gently, as he has every day since the heartbreak. But we ignore him, because we are hurt and the world has taught us to lick our wounds in solitude.

He doesn’t leave, though. He never leaves.

And one day, when our fingers are more cuts and bandages than skin, when the rattling of the pieces within our empty chest is too haunting a melody to bear, His question will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. We’ll turn to him with a fury that can only come from pain and snap, “You really want to see it? Fine. Here it is.”

We don’t handle our heart gently – we are tired and hollow and hurting, so we lash out like the wounded thing we are and slam all the pieces we have left into the hands that have always been there, waiting patiently. 

“Thank you,” He’ll say, reverent and loving as He looks down at the jagged pieces that have now cut into His own palms. 

But they’re so ugly, we’ll think. Jagged and hurtful and–

A gentle (always gentle) hand on our shoulder, the other still holding the pieces of our broken heart. “Come on,” He’ll murmur, so much tender loving care packed into those two words it leaves us breathless. “Rest with me while I work on this.” 

So, we rest. And piece by piece, He smoothes the jagged edges until they are soft to the touch. He forms us a new heart, seals of gold filling in the places where cracks used to be.

“Would you take my yoke?” He asks, cradling our hands with scarred palms as He returns our heart to us. “I promise it isn’t heavy.”

And it isn’t. Our heart has become light in every sense of the word, and while we know it won’t be easy – the world is always trying to snuff out those that shine, after all – we know where we can find rest.