Sea Glass

The magic of the beach was calling.  You know "the call:"  your soul needs refreshing...you are tired...you are weary.  And that special place, whether it be the mountains or the lake or the seashore calls to you, saying:  "Come!" 

So we went.  And it was good.

Sunrises, with their quiet stillness at the very best time of the day.  The sky with all it's pinks and grays and soft clouds. Sunsets with their dimming colors, above a cloud-shrouded horizon; the azure sea, gentle waves, wildlife:  gulls and pelicans, bearded lizards and a parrott named Echo!, sea urchins and angel fish.  Seafood.  Gentle breezes.  Yes!

As usual, I set out to find some pretty shells for my collection.  My daddy had a little glass box with his personal favorite:  a chambered nautilus that he had carefully cut, so that one could see each chamber.  Being a design engineer who had started out in architecture, he had a creative side that appreciated the way God designed His world and all that is in it, including shells.  So whenever we've answered "the call" of the beach, I've tried to bring a few new shells to add to the collection:  tiny, perfect spirals from Hilton Head; sand dollars from Jekyll Island or Shell Island; a vast array from Sanibel, the seashell capital of America!  colorful little clamshells from the Carolina shores; lava from Hawaii.

My rule for gathering shells has always been:  they must be perfect.  No nicks.  No rough edges.  PERFECT!  John would find a pretty one, but it wouldn't meet my criteria, with it's broken spot.  I would see one, partially hiding in the surf, only to discover it was missing an appendage.  Nope, not good enough.  Imperfect.

This last trip something interesting happened.  I began to appreciate less-than-perfect, for some reason.  The selection was different.  No clam shells.  No perfect spirals.  Some pitted coral.  Some interesting cylindrical ones.  But what most intrigued me was sea glass:  tiny shards of green glass, probably from a broken bottle perhaps an ocean away, that had been carried by the tides to the seashore.  It probably had a rough ride.  Thrown around by the stormy seas.  Further broken and greatly reduced in size.  Beautiful and fascinating...

What is most interesting is that it is no longer sharp...not at all!  It's edges are smoothe...soft...not even a hint of something able to cut or hurt.  The transformation is amazing.  And "it" spoke to me, in a soothing voice:  "Learn from me a life-lesson that will soothe your soul and calm your spirit."  So I listened.  And here's what "it" said...

Life is rough.  For everyone.  Noone is exempt.  The storms will come, you will question and wonder and be hurt.  But it won't defeat you.  You are being refined, like fire refines silver, like a file smoothes a rough nail, like the waves of the sea toss a sharp piece of glass til it is made soft and smoothe with no rough edges at all. Don't resist the process.  Go with it!  Let it happen!  Because you are not alone.

"I am there! says God, our heavenly Father."

Yes, God the creator and author of all life-lessons, allows it but never leaves nor forsakes His children who are being smoothed with heavenly sandpaper.  He is there!  He has big, strong shoulders and a willingness to carry us, to shelter us under His wings, to ease the pain of the process and to bring us to the other shore safe and sound and renewed. 

So we rejoice and are glad and are able to say, "Thank you!  Thank you for this lesson that I needed.  I don't want to be rough, cutting, hurtful...I needed refinement, and I'm thankful that some good can come from hurt and weariness that have been so present.  You are pure and unblemished, and I want to be as well.  I will never be perfect like You are perfect.  But I can be a softer and gentler soul.  And listen better...see more clearly...and follow You more closely."

Yes, it's a lesson in life that I didn't ask for...I didn't want...I resisted greatly...but for which I am begininng to realize is a gift from God Himself:  His bright, shining light...His hands upon my life and upon those I love best...His countenance, bright as the sun, wanting the best for me and mine, as He teaches us another of His life-lessons, even with the pain.