Twice when I’ve been deeply hurt and angry, my friend Tiff has brought over a box of plates and a mallet or two. The first time our impassioned hammering turned into a beautiful mosaic which lined my kitchen counter and out of which I got numerous ooohs and aaahs from visitors. Now, while it may sound cliché to say that broken things can be turned into something beautiful, I will also admit that I wasn’t saying it to myself enough. I was too consumed with the broken and more and more doubtful of the mosaic with each passing crash. It was also as if I was handing my pieces to someone – anyone - else and saying, “Here; this broke. Fix it for me,” all the while doubting anyone would want to or even care -- but I sure wasn’t taking responsibility for it because it wasn’t my fault it all broke in the first place, right? That’s not sharing in a cup of suffering; it’s passing it off! And all this time I was putting my self-validation in whether or not people trusted me, yet I trusted myself less, trusted others less, and trusted God less. Frankly, the irony is staggering.