There’s always shattered glass in the street

Utah streets at night are becoming the theme of my blog; I’ve just accepted it.

A few nights ago I was driving back from campus late and the day had been particularly rainy. The traffic lights left colorful smears on the wet, blackened pavement like they always did, but this time as I was turning a corner, little flickers of sparkling white lights – it looked like glitter – caught my attention. The glitter-like pieces of glass on the road were clearly the remains of what had been a recent car accident, likely nothing more than a fender bender.

As I passed the little scattering of distracting glass, I had the thought that there is always shattered glass on the streets. Another analogy. I drive the same route to and from campus every day; on that route, I pass any number of people living completely distinct, complex, and separate lives.

The road is always the same.

But sometimes there are remnants of a heartbreaking event; sometimes I pass people who visually represent shattered glass. They’re broken.

I’ve passed a LOT of car accidents over the last four years of living in Utah. Most of them involve just a few bumps and bruises and accumulate to nothing more than a few dents and a couple frustrated folks. Every so often, though, I pass a really bad wreck with multiple cop cars and ambulances on scene. The responders work together to help the injured and clear the wreckage, and after all is said and done they open the roads again to let traffic resume. Within minutes of their departure, the only signs left to tell the story are the pieces of shattered glass on the road.

This begs several questions: what clues me in on those who are struggling? What signs tell the story of a person who needs to be lifted?

The answer to these questions change every day, every week, every year, as I change and as my peers change. The pieces of shattered glass may be on one street corner tonight and a different one tomorrow. But the street is the same. The way is the same. At the end of the day, we are still people, and smiles still communicate joy, and tears still communicate sadness. Broken pieces help me see the people who need to be carried. And if you one day find that it’s you who needs to be carried – there’s nothing wrong with that.

Even in the midst of being broken, shattered glass remains a beautiful, beautiful thing.