Dozens and dozens of Barbies littered my parents’ house. I guess you can never have too many? Totally Hair Barbie, Rollerblade Barbie, Teacher Barbie, Bride Midge (because Ken has yet to put a ring on Barbie), Evening Enchantment Barbie, Earring Magic Barbie . . . I could go on.
Every once in awhile, tragedy would strike. A head would pop off.
Sidebar, don’t search Google images for “headless Barbie.” Creepy.
But as a little girl, there was nothing creepy about it. She merely lost her head. She was just broken. Only broken. No big deal. Because I loved her, I saw her history and her potential.
With my mom’s help, we’d put the head back on and sure, Barbie’s neck would be a little truncated, but she was still part of the family. She still wore the pretty dresses, talked Skipper through her homework, worked at the grocery store, drove the Barbie Ferrari.
Broken didn’t matter. Because she was well-loved.
In a way far more perfect, far more beautiful, far more significant and far more world-shaping, broken doesn’t matter to God. We are well-loved no matter what, and loved even more for our brokenness. Brokenness brings redemption through Christ alone.
Broken doesn’t matter. We are well-loved.
Linking up with Five Minute Friday today. The prompt was broken.