When my son was five or six years old his class made these lovely little angels. They were cutouts of his hands and then painted together. I have put this up on a kitchen cupboard door every year since. It has now hung up in three homes. It is covered with tape. The paint has cracked the paper. It has been mended over and over again. It will probably be mended some more.
This little angel has memories imbued in to it. Memories of making cookies, memories of lighting the Advent candle each day at supper, memories of silly boy giggles, memories of his snuggles which have turned into lovely adult hugs, his joyfulness at almost everything. This is why I put it up each year, even though the boy is now a grown man. It is to remember that our relationship has withstood so much. That he knows that both of his parents love him always.
This is why I mend it each year when I take it out of the box to put it up again. I mend it because it has become a symbol of love, of strength, of memory. The cracks are there, but they have not broken anything. It is why we mend our relationships. It is why God mends our hearts and works with us to mend the world by sending Jesus the one who can mend it all.
The little angel in my kitchen holds all that and it will get mended again and again.