Shells

I spent a lot of time this past weekend strolling along the beach looking for shells. Actually, I didn’t have to look hard, as the beach in North Carolina where we were was littered with more shells than I’ve ever seen anywhere. I suppose it is more accurate to say that I was looking at shells, and collecting ones that caught my eye more so than others.

As I did this, the solitude of the activity and the roar of the waves facilitated some deep thought. I began thinking of the shells at which I was gazing, and I was struck by God’s infinite creativity.

Think about it. The shells are but remnants of something that once was, and yet – in their brokenness – they are beautiful. They are something worth looking at and taking with us. They are special, unique, and fascinating. They once housed a living creature, deep within the oce an, and have endured who knows what before arriving at their resting place in the sand. Their occupants are now gone, and the shells – shattered and polished by the waves – are now just a trinket for tourists and beachcombers to gather. Some are overlooked as children frolic in the sun; some, though, are gently retrieved from the damp ground, rinsed off, and tucked safely into a pocket as a token of remembrance, their destinies unknown but to those who see their value. They are not what they were created to be, but they have a special purpose in what they have become.

And don’t we all? I know that I, broken and battered, am certainly not what I was created to be. I have endured more than I wish to recount here, tossed and thrown around in this life, and have come to rest where I am now…but certainly will not stay here long. Something new will come along and pick me up, taking me somewhere that I cannot fathom or imagine now. I am broken, but I am polished. Some of my rougher edges have been smoothed out, no longer jagged and painful to touch. Some of them, though, are still dangerous. Some of them still hurt, and still need a strong and gentle touch to round them off and make them beautiful. As I am now, though, I have a purpose. I am not all that I could have been, yet – through grace, strong and gentle – have potential and purpose and am special in that, too. God takes the brokenness and makes it beautiful. He takes the rough edges and smoothes them out, enabling my uniqueness to shine. He looks at the jagged pieces of my life, accepts them as beautiful in and of themselves, rinses off the muck, and tucks me safely into His heart for a purpose only He can know.

Thank You, Father, for seeing something beautiful in me. Thank You for treasuring me. Thank You for working with me, so patiently and so diligently. Thank You for teaching me, and for giving me images I can understand that help me to see You more clearly in this world. You are so good. Thank You for You. Amen.