Broken to be shared: When the breaking became the blessing
I still remember the last time I was heartbroken and painfully single. It was an ordinary Sunday in our small parish in Fujairah – a humble, one-story building that’s been home to our local Catholic community for years. The place was packed as always, with familiar faces in familiar pews; mostly families I’d grown up seeing every week. At the altar, the priest lifted the Heavenly Host as he had done countless times before. He broke it in two, then into smaller pieces – the sound barely audible over his words echoing Jesus’ blessing from the Last Supper, yet somehow resounding through the soul. A soft, sacred crack that lingered in the air like a prayer. Then I was standing in line for the Holy Eucharist, facing the priest as he held up a fragment – uneven, imperfect, yet utterly holy. I said the only word that could hold all that moment meant: “Amen.” It means so be it . It means I believe . It means even this – even...