“All the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again.”
iPhone screens. Windows. Windshields. Bones. Baseball bats. Helmets. Even Humpty Dumpty.
When something is cracked, we often think of it as ruined, useless, irredeemably broken.
But when a bird’s egg cracks while in the confines of its nest, it is a sign of new life, a fresh beginning. Only moments before the first crack, the egg is pure, smooth, unbroken. Then the crack happens, disrupting the calm surface of the egg.
But what emerges next is something new and beautiful.
Our business had its best year ever in 2019. Speaking, in person, on live stages was the biggest driver of revenue. Who would have predicted that such a business model could vanish so quickly? But of course, it did, thanks to the arrival of a tiny, unwelcome virus.
Almost overnight, as speaking engagements went up in smoke, our business model cracked. Our future looked bleak. But we clung more fervently to our faith and were bolstered by the support of past clients and the merry band of Adultitis Fighters who had assembled behind us over the previous twenty years.
We pivoted to a virtual world, developed a super secret membership community, and developed new skills that ushered in new opportunities. Not only did we survive, but we thrived, and ended up buying our dream home on the edge of Lake Michigan amidst the turmoil.
It was an imaginable outcome twelve months earlier, but made possible thanks to an unwelcome disruption.
A year and a half after we moved in, we countered another bad “break.” A 112-mph straight-line wind tore through our neighborhood and decimated our backyard, leaving a mess of uprooted tress and an enormous pile of debt in its wake.
It was rough. We were safe, and it could have been worse, but we were broken. Fast forward another year and a half, and I am only now fully realizing the full scope of blessings that came forth from that challenging chapter.
Sometimes our life cracks.
Plans go south. Failures mount. Tragedy strikes.
We lose the game, our health, or someone we love.
We feel irredeemably broken.
But that doesn’t have to be the end of the story. In fact, it might just be the start of a new and better one.
This painting is a reminder of that first Easter morning, when something that undoubtedly felt like the end of the line miraculously turned into a glorious new beginning.
Maybe something in your life has cracked recently.
Is it broken, or the start of a new opportunity?