God told me to post a story I wrote a couple of years ago on here...maybe to encourage those of you who feel less than average .

I will post about my current struggles soon but for now something positive ....you may need a tissue for this one.

Broken Pieces

By Laura MacNair

(Unedited Version )

A box of Crayons sat on the shelf at Arthur’s Art Store waiting for the store

to open. It was the first day of the Grand Opening of the store and all the crayons were filled with excitement, as they tried to picture who would choose

them and what beautiful pictures they could make. One box of crayons filled with all kinds of beautiful bright colors bragged that he would be the first box of crayons to be chosen, because, after all, his crayons were the brightest and the biggest and would draw the most beautiful pictures one’s eyes could ever see.

As they talked amongst themselves laughing, one of the boxes named Cooper looked over and saw Cory the Crayon box sitting quietly on the shelf.

“What’s the matter Cory, did they chip off your tongue?” he said as the

others looked on and laughed.

“N..N..Nothing,” he stuttered. “I...I just w..was th..thinking about w...what I w..ant to draw.”

“Huh? You draw something? Ha ha ha ha! Thats funny! Why you’re just a box of plain ugly ordinary crayons. No one’s going to want you, even Arthur the Art

man was going to throw you out!” he said snickering as the others laughed

even louder.

Just as Conner said that a little boy walked up and looked at all the

Crayons, picking up each box and looking at them, as if trying to choose

the most perfect colors. When he got to Cory Crayon box he picked them up and opened them. “Eww, who would want these crayons?” The boy dropped them on the

floor and stomped on them as his mother was calling him from the

next row of art supplies.

“Coming, mother!” the boy said with a sigh as he picked up the crayons and flung them carelessly on the shelf. He picked Conner and another box of crayons named Carl then left.

As Cory laid there on the shelf he began to cry. “N..n..nobody w..would want me n..n..now,” he stuttered. “Wh...wh...who was I  k..k..kidding everyone’s right I'm n..n..nothing, my crayons are ugly and n..n..now they’re b..broken int..to pieces.”

He watched as other crayon boxes were chosen by kids and adults alike and sobbed and sighed as they left, then one of Arthur’s Art workers would come and put more boxes of crayons on the shelf, ignoring Cory each time.

“W.. WHY WON'T A...ANYONE TH... THROW M..ME AWAY?” he yelled. He started crying softly. “I'm useless...useless.”

“Hmmm! Useless? Useless?” said a small gentle voice. “I doubt that!”  

Cory looked up and saw an old man smiling and looking straight at him. The old man’s face and hands were badly scarred but his eyes, filled with love and compassion, were unlike Cory had ever seen before.

“Wow! Cory said to the old man. “W...why would s..someone like you want s..something like me? I..I'm...”  

“Shhh!” the old man interrupted. With a smile and a wink he said, “You'll see!”

When they got to the cash register Arthur was there. He looked at Cory's crushed box and broken crayons and said “Sir, I was going to throw those ones out- why don't I take them back and get you a brand new box.”

“No,” said the old man, “I'll take these. Now how much do I owe you?”

“They are usually a dollar. But I'll give that box to you for 10 cents,” Arthur said with a suprised and puzzled look on his face.

The old man pulled a 10 dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to Arthur. “Please take this and keep it. These crayons are well worth it!” He picked them up and headed out the door.

“Worth it? That guy is crazy,” Arthur thought as he placed the money in the cash

register drawer.

Cory the Crayon box sat quietly in the old man’s pocket as the old man walked slowly back to his home. As the old man reached his home, Cory heard him start to sing a song in a language he had never heard before.

“What a beautiful voice,” Cory said to himself. “How can such a beautiful voice come out of the old man, whose face and hands are so badly scarred? I wonder what he's singing?”

The old man opened the door of his home, took off his coat and pulled Cory the Crayon Box out of his pocket. He placed him on the table next to a large clean white sheet of drawing paper. Again Cory the Crayon box wondered what the old man was going to do with his crayons. There is no way he can use my crayons to draw, they’re too broken and too small to even hold in his hands, Cory thought.

Again he heard the old man's gentle voice. “Shhh... trust me, Cory- I have a plan for you.”

The old man opened Cory the Crayon box up and gently spilled the badly crushed crayon pieces in his hand. He picked up a little brown piece with his other hand and began to scratch it against the paper, grunting with each stroke of the crayon as though he was in pain. What is he trying to draw? Cory wondered.

“Shh,” said the old man. “Look and you will see.”

Cory stared as the old man painstakinly drew what looked to Cory like three crosses. Then on the left side of the page he began to draw a crowd of people. In the middle of the crowd he drew a man who was bleeding unmercifully. People were beating him, punching him, and calling him all kinds of bad names.

He had what looked like a crown of thorns on his head, and it looked as though someone was beating him over the head. On top of those thorns blood was pouring from his head.

“Hey Mister,” Cory said to the old man, “what are you going to draw next? Something beautiful?”

Again the old man said “Shhhhhh! You'll see!”  Cory the Crayon Box stood there,

this time with tears running down his little box face, as he watched the old man painfully draw another picture.  In this picture he drew what looked like the same man but he was so badly beaten he was barely recognizable.  This man was carrying a cross up a very steep hill only to fall down under its weight.

Someone dressed in a funny looking costume, looking like a soldier, grabbed another man from the crowd and made him help carry the very bloody man’s cross up the hill.

Then he saw the old man draw a cross lying flat on the ground. On that cross they laid the very bloody man.  Cory could now hear the crowd screaming and yelling horrible things at the man. The things they were saying were so horrible it made Cory cry harder and louder

The old man had tears in his eyes as well; in fact, he was crying so much tears were streaming down his face and dropping on the paper. The strangest thing was happening, though- the paper wasn’t getting wet. Hmmmmm that’s strange, Cory the Crayon Box thought as he continued to watch the old man. The old man began to slowly draw two men who again looked like soldiers kneeling by each of the bloody man’s arms. Each had a hammer and large, thick nails in their hands.

What Cory Crayon Box saw next made Cory scream and close his eyes tight. He saw the soldiers put a nail on each hand, and then he actually heard the sound of the hammers pounding the nails in the bloody man’s hands.

“NNN.......NO!”

Cory the Crayon box screamed. Then he heard the old man who was now sobbing loudly cry out, “Cory, do you know who I am? Do you believe?”

Cory opened his eyes to see the old man standing before him, blood coming out of the scars in his hands and feet. Cory closed his eyes and opened them quickly again. Standing before him was someone whose beauty Cory could not describe. He was smiling and holding out two nail pierced hands.

“Jesus, is that you?” he  cried.   

“Yes! Cory it is me! I love you and have forgiven you and I have come to make you whole again.”

Then Jesus picked up Cory and held him gently in his nail scarred hands and turned him towards the broken crayon pieces. Cory could not take his eyes off the pieces as he watched them one by one form into the most beautiful sparkling crayons that one could ever gaze upon. Then Jesus turned Cory towards him, and as Cory looked into his eyes he gently said, “Now let’s see what I can do for you.”

Cory the Crayon box began to feel really strange. Something was happening

to him, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Jesus. He couldn't even blink.

Joy and happiness and a peace like he had never felt before filled Cory.

Suddenly all Cory could see was a beautiful bright light. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and at the end of the bright light stood Jesus, holding something in his arms.

Jesus moved closer to him, and as he moved Cory the Crayon box saw the most

beautiful sparkling rose he had ever laid eyes on. Suddenly Cory realized that he was that beautiful rose!

“Oh Jesus! My Jesus! Thank you!” he said with tears of joy in his eyes. He suddenly realized he was no longer stuttering and squealed with delight. Then he heard Jesus say “Cory, my beautiful shining rose. You are no longer broken, for your faith in me has made you whole. Come sit with me at my table of life in Heaven above, and I will care for you for all eternity.”