Hearts Broken Open
“A broken heart,” I wrote on a poster-sized, yellow Post-It. Then, underneath, “A heart broken open.” “Just a little inspiration for your free-write, in case you need it,” I told my students as they came in to our tiny classroom, an old office-building lunchroom. We always warm up with ten minutes of free writing about anything. Broken hearts versus Hearts broken open: It’s a little mantra that’s been going through my head this month. Not an original one: Quaker writer Parker Palmer introduced me to it, in his book A Hidden Wholeness. I quoted Palmer a few weeks ago, when I wrote about Washington State Senator Mary Margaret Haugen, who had the courage to change her mind and support same-sex marriage. This time, Palmer got me thinking about how one word, “open,” changes everything. A heart broken—smashed, pieces scattered, beyond repair—versus a heart broken open: like a seed that needs to break open in order to sprout. Or like a broken marriage that, someday, grows into a blended family. Or a tragedy or illness that breaks the people it strikes open into compassion and empathy. My own example is my mother’s early Alzheimer’s disease, which broke every heart in my family, but it also broke us open. We know we’re not alone; we’re one of five million-plus American families who know the shape of this particular heartbreak. I put those words on a big Post-it because I thought it might be an idea that would appeal to teenaged writers. Who knows better than they the fresh, [...]