Saturday, August 26, 2017

Broken Pieces

This morning I found myself thinking of last week's trip to Tybee Island. It was a very relaxing, much needed time away. Sometimes getting away from the everyday stuff brings a bit of clarity - for me it was an afternoon I decided to go to the beach alone. Since it was a weekday and school is back in there were hardly any other people around, and it was very peaceful. At first I just plopped down on my towel enjoying the sounds of the ocean, the sea gulls, and feeling the breeze. As I suppose many of us do when we have time to ourselves, I began to think of my past, present, future.... At some point rather than just thinking to myself, I was silently praying instead. First praying, "I want to hear You better...teach me to listen more closely, please". I sifted the sand through my fingers before my next prayer (a question, really), "what is an important word for me to hear?". Almost immediately the word, "broken" came to mind. Broken. I almost smiled a little, thinking, "Ha! Not me!". Clearly, I could think of times in my life when the word would have described me - my entire being. Recalling those scenes I pictured myself hunched over, or even curled in a ball. Hurting. It was dark in those places. Lonely. I said the word to myself again. Broken. And again. Broken. I studied it and tried to imagine why that would be the word I needed to hear. After a while I stood and walked along the shoreline letting the water rush around my ankles, trying to keep my mind open for anything else. Nearing the rocks I glanced over to the sand on my right instead of the ocean on my left. In doing this I noticed a pretty pattern in the sand from the waves washing in and out. The closer to the rocks I walked, I saw this sand was different from the sand on the rest of the beach. Focusing in closer without my sunglasses I could tell it wasn't just sand, but teensy tiny crushed pieces of shells that reflected the red, copper, and brown colors in the setting sun. The shells were no longer what they use to be, but they were still beautiful in their way. They were still shining and reflecting the sun (I hate that I didn't have my camera on my walk to share a picture). At this simple realization I did smile - sometimes broken is a beautiful thing. Maybe before we are able to really search, and want to learn or listen we have to survive (and even embrace) the circumstances that break us. As life goes, we will probably be broken over and over like those tiny shells. That is ok. We'll become something different, but still beautiful. And personally, what a humbling reminder to surrender my life to Jesus daily.
Oh how I want to shine and reflect the sun like those broken shells.


Tybee beach 

 shells I picked up close to the rocks