48. Picking Shells

Day 48. Picking Shells

     I love to pick shells. It is the best beach activity...in my opinion. When I was younger, I searched for perfect shells. I only wanted shells with no holes, no chips, no scars, or any other imperfections. I searched for whole shells.

     I can't lie. When I find a whole, perfect shell now...I still love it. To find such a rare specimen as a whole, perfect shell is special. But as I was searching through what had to be thousands of shells along a rock wall at the beach today, I starting thinking how people are like shells. Each shell is unique. Each shell has a different life story. And, like shells...we have scars. Scrapes, gashes, chips, even pieces missing sometimes. But that is what makes us who we are. We learn from our experiences...the good and the bad. The amazing ones, and the ones that feel like pieces of our flesh are being ripped away from us.

     As I picked up broken shell after broken shell today, I wondered...what was this ones story? Where did it come from? Who else has picked this one up? How many storms has this one been through?

     I think that it's because of...not in spite of...the scars that make us beautiful.

     The shells are still beautiful, and I love to walk the beach collecting them.