Have you ever noticed that the littlest kids pick up nearly every seashell they find? It doesn't matter in the slightest whether it's a mere fragment, broken in half, covered in barnacles, discolored, or jagged. They love them all. And what do we do as adults? We find for our child the perfect shells. The ones that are whole. Or brilliant white. Or smooth as glass. We encourage them to leave behind those that we would describe as damaged or broken, or simply "not worth keeping."
And that's why I was happy to see Abby's slightly drab menagerie. Because it means that at her ripe old age of nine she hasn't been completely jaded by our adult standards of beauty. She saw these shells as worth bringing home to share with me.
I hope Abby will always be able to see the beauty in the less than perfect things around her, particularly in herself and other people. As a society we're so quick to dismiss, disregard, and distance ourselves from those whom we don't find attractive in some way. Whether it's disability, age, weight, race, or some other arbitrary standard that television, movies, and magazines present us with, most of us quickly turn away from whatever and whomever we've deemed unattractive or unacceptable.
This summer, if you make it to the beach, pick up and take home a broken seashell. Keep it somewhere where you can look at it every day. Perhaps that shell will encourage you to share a smile, say hello, or simply notice someone that you would have overlooked before. And perhaps you will find beauty in places you've never imagined.
5 comments:
Yes, a bit preachy but go ahead and preach it, sista! Very good to remember that God has physically created each one of us in a unique way that is to be valued. He's awesome!
Thanks, Michelle. I was also thinking that those shells get broken and battered by "life," just as we do. And it's our battle scars that show that we've lived.
Kim, Thanks for the reminder that there is beauty in everyone and everything. we just need to look past the "ugliness". God uses the broken and battered to make us whole.
I just came home from the beach with shells- mostly perfect, but a few that had some special needs and they are my favorite.
Loved your blog- thanks
Love this. It gets me thinking about the stories behind those broken or otherwise imperfect shells (of people and of the sea).
Consider this also: the sand itself is made of pulverized shells. And depending on the sealife (and pollution, one assume) in the particular body of water, the sand's color and texture differs.
There is a powerful analogy there, for preaching and for life, I'm sure. But now I'm thinking of sitting by the ocean with my feet dug into the sand, listening to the surf and enjoying the sense of perspective that the seaside brings. The ocean is so big--and the grains of sand so small. And here I am, somewhere in the middle.
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