For the past several years, my morning commute led me through some of Nashville’s “messiest” neighborhoods. And some of the nicest. As a city, it’s a bit of a patchwork between the nitty-gritty and the gentrified. In the span of two blocks, I would pass $2000/month one-bedroom townhouses and a women’s shelter. I passed restaurants that require reservations months in advance and coffeeshops that charge $5 for a basic drip coffee…and then I would pass corner bodegas with folks smoking outside and taking swigs from paper bags.

With every stop sign I passed, I could taste the brokenness of the city.

These days, I wake up before the sun and drive straight into the mountains just as the pink twinge of the sunrise begins to fade. On my way home, I marvel at the way the snow clings to the trees and try to figure out whether there’s a name for the peaks in the distance (and if I’ve been on them). I listen to the laughter of my students as they roll down a snowy hill or collect materials to build a fairy house or make funny noises just because they can. With a light dusting of snow turning the world into something from my sweetest dreams, it’s hard to believe that anything bad can happen here (besides getting snow in your boots or balaclava).

But there’s brokenness here, too. It’s knowing that kids are born to be a status symbol for their parents. It’s helping five year olds cope when a parent leaves town every other week to ski somewhere else. It’s the shrinking back that happens in someone’s eyes when you tell them you believe in God. It’s watching people avoid their feelings through a haze of marijuana and alcohol. It’s bar fights over girls and cars getting towed. It’s collisions when drivers just can’t find enough patience. It’s a four-year old pushing someone down because they can’t quite figure out how to communicate. And it’s a five year old being told that they’re a “bad boy.”

Brokenness doesn’t pick and choose based on geography or wealth or race. It is real and palpable in so many ways. But the brokenness doesn’t have to break you. There is always a fresh breath of air, a new mountain to climb, and a new day to hug a kiddos who’s feeling a little sad.

The brokenness won’t win…not in Nashville and not in Vermont.