Restoration of the Broken
/CORINNE GANNOTTI
At our wedding reception, my husband and I had a large antique image of the Sacred Heart on display.
It had been hand painted by a religious sister ages ago, and even with its weather-worn white frame and missing chips of paint, it was glorious. One of my very favorite things.
PHOTOGRAPHY: ABBEY REZ PHOTOGRAPHY
Having it at our reception made it all the more meaningful, because now I could keep the memory of glancing over and seeing it on its little side table as we danced throughout the night tucked in my mind forever.
I always hoped it would be a piece of art that we'd have in our future home in a special place. I imagined it hung up on a prominent wall for years to come, a treasured heirloom, an image that could easily bring me back to the real meaning of things (love, and above all the love of God poured out for us through Christ).
I imagined all this with such excited hope, but I never anticipated this simple painted piece had something to teach me about healing and restoration.
Since that night at our wedding reception, the painting has in fact held a place of importance in our home. It hung first on the wall of our two-bedroom apartment, just above the space where we liked to keep our prayer books and rosaries, next to the coziest chair we owned. Beautiful as it had always been. That is, until one evening, when for no other discernible reason except for the fact that the hook on which it was strung could no longer bear its weight, it fell.
As it hit onto our carpeted floor, which didn't do much to cushion the blow, massive shards of glass splayed out everywhere. It was shocking. The sudden crash, the devastating realization of what had just happened. I think I may have instantly started crying. My husband, in his usual calm and easy-going way, looked onto the scene and promised that he was sure things could be fixed. I wasn't so convinced.
With hot, tear stained cheeks I collected the broken pieces, certain that it was ruined. One of my favorite things about the piece, what made it so unique, was also what made it so obviously and utterly destroyed. The painting itself was layered with parts both on top of the glass and on the paper behind it, with the heart of Jesus painted right on the broken pieces I now held in both hands.
Over the course of the next week, my husband researched how he could best mend and repair it. He found special glue and gradually refastened each piece back into place, somehow managing to make them all fit again and seal together. It took serious time and care. Sometimes he would just stand there completely still for what seemed like ages, holding one piece in just the right place as the glue dried.
All the while, I sat in despair - feeling like even his best attempts could never really make it anything comparable to what it once was. There was no way the giant fractures in the glass wouldn't be glaringly obvious, even if he did manage to get it back into a single piece that would fit again into its historic frame.
If I'm being honest, I've had feelings like that about moments in my marriage that have nothing to do with a prized piece of vintage art.
There have been disagreements, arguments, and moments of serious selfishness and pride. Times when my tendency towards self-protection has motivated me above my desire for self-gift, and I have hurt my husband or he has hurt me by making those same kinds of choices.
In the heat of the moment, or the hurt that can come after, it can be easy to believe things are broken beyond repair. Disillusionment can make you believe that the kind of love marriage asks of us is more than we are capable of and we cannot bear the weight. There is a little truth there, but not its fullness. Because the immense concern of God is present to us in these places of our own weakness, and in them He can be our strength.
When situations that cause brokenness and rupture in our relationship occur, we are invited into a process of restoration that ultimately has the capacity to create something much greater than what existed before.
That restoration takes intentionality and patience. It involves real communication about areas of hurt - actual conversations in which responsibility is taken and forgiveness can be offered. It requires humility, which can be so difficult to choose, especially if we know we have wronged the one we love or if we feel hurt by them. But this is exactly where we can ask for the grace of God to strengthen us.
It is the working of His Holy Spirit in us that empowers us to choose humility when we do in fact manage to choose it. It is He who convicts us to apologize and work to mend and learn altogether better ways to love each other.
The longer I'm married, the more I'm coming to believe that the grace of this sacrament is most actively at work healing the places in my heart where woundedness still rules me - the rough and shattered ones - so that I can more freely love my spouse and receive his love in return.
In the end, my husband managed to completely reassemble the broken painting. It hangs once again, now on a wall just beside the fireplace in our current home. And it is glorious. I love it even more than I did before.
And that's not despite the glue fastened edges that are still a little obvious as you look upon it - but it's because of those broken pieces, fixed with such attention and care.
More than just a beautiful religious icon to keep in our home for years to come as I always hoped it would be, it has become a symbol of love. A symbol of the fact that broken things can always be restored.
And through restoration comes a glory greater than what was possible before. That's kind of the entire point of marriage, in a way. That's kind of the entire reason Divine Love was willing to be poured out through that fully human heart of Christ too.
About the Author: Corinne studied Theology and Catechetics at Franciscan University where she met her husband, Sam. They were married in 2016 and now live in Pennsylvania with their two children, Michael and Vera, and where she continues to work in the ministry field. She especially enjoys reading stories with her 3 year old, running, and crossing things off her to-do list. She desires to live a life marked by joy, and is grateful to have a family who makes that effort much easier by helping her take herself less seriously.