Lessons from a Broken Madonna

Maria Morera Johnson shares how a favorite statue of the Blessed Mother, broken by a toddler's love, taught her a deeper lesson of the Father's love.

A small statue of Our Lady of Grace used to sit on the corner of my desk next to a plastic bottle of holy water and a Hello Kitty Pez dispenser. I blessed myself with holy water every time I sat down to write, and often ate a sweet candy as a little treat when I finished. Through it all, the Blessed Mother stood watch. The statue was a gift tucked into a welcome basket for a speaking engagement many years ago. A thoughtful gift small enough to fit into a travel bag. A lasting gift small enough to fit into a toddler’s hand.

It seems that Mary made her way into toddler hands every time I’d have a visit from our grandsons. She was the perfect size for a trip outside, squirreled away in a pocket and brought out to play with Iron Man and a pewter model of the Enterprise NCC-1701 (the original, for those wondering). Mary played alongside other superheroes, and I can't help but be pleased that we know she was a super hero, not just full of Grace but heroic virtue. Who knows what great adventures she had with this motley crew, but they must have been great because after every visit, I had to hunt her down and return her to the place of honor on my desk.

I don’t know when or how the hands broke off the statue.

Broken Rosaries and Headless Saints

I have lost some beautiful pieces over the years: decorative wedding gifts that didn’t survive a move, lovely glassware that succumbed to the dangers of a full sink, items lost to the normal wear and tear of an active household. I had no qualms about throwing away those items that lost their utilitarian or aesthetic value.

So why have I held onto this little statue? It was never blessed. But let’s have a Catholic moment here. I can’t possibly be the only person who keeps broken rosaries and headless saints hidden away safely in a drawer or closet. Surely there’s something about Catholic culture that keeps us from parting with these broken sacramentals. Or am I a hoarder on the way to some reality show featuring Catholic grandmas and their collections of rosaries and holy cards?

I have too many holy cards, too, but that a different story.

Or is it?

I suspect this phenomenon exists outside my family. Some of the pieces I’m holding onto were my mother’s and grandmother’s. I wonder if they rescued them from their own mothers, so here I am, the keeper of the faith, in more ways than one.

All the Marys-1

Beauty in Brokenness

I am intrigued by the Japanese art of kitsugi, the repair of broken pottery with a beautiful gold trim that highlights the breaks and turns something broken into a new expression of beauty. Had I known about this beautiful artform decades ago, I might have been able to save some sentimental pieces. Nevertheless, kitsugi speaks to some part of me that gently reminds me that brokenness isn’t a flaw to be hidden, but a part of my story to be cherished.

Kintsugi unlocks that quiet hope inside each of us that our broken parts are beautiful in the same way that Christ entered into our brokenness through the Cross. Our brokenness, when touched by Grace, is transformed. It’s stunning to think that the Resurrected Christ still bears the marks of His wounds, and so it goes that we, too, bear the marks of our brokenness, our sins and errors as well as the injuries we’ve sustained from others.

We are loved in our brokenness, perhaps especially because of it, and Christ has come to heal us and make something new and beautiful from it. Now when I look at this little broken Mary, I remember the joy of the little boys who played with it, and long after their visits, I am reminded of my own brokenness, and the grace that has saved me.

God uses the ordinary — in this case, a broken little statue — to remind me that in God’s economy, nothing is wasted. Even our scars, when healed, make us all the more beautiful and treasured, becoming signs of hope and beauty for the world.

Do you have a favorite sacramental that is broken but you can't part with? Share your story! We'd love to hear it!