Walking up and down the seashore is a stroll in paradise for those of us who collect shells. There are some beaches that are better than others, but one always finds some shells.
When my husband and children would see them, we would pick them up and examine them. If that shell was whole, we would place it in our collector bag. If the shell was broken, we discarded it, finding no worth in keeping it. Then the hunt began again.
One year I changed the routine. I started picking up the broken ones…and keeping them. The kids were not quite sure why I would do that until I shared some ideas with them. We could glue them on a wooden picture frame. Display the pieces in a basket or glass vase. Soon they were thinking of ways to use them.
I am so glad that that the Father did not discard me when He found me broken. I can see my Abba walking down the shore, picking up every shell and piece of shell. It doesn’t matter the shape, size or color. Each one is precious to Him. None are discarded. He gently picks them up and places them in his pocket to examine in greater detail later. Each one is special, each one will have a place.
I am so grateful that He shows us simple lessons about His love in the things of nature. Seashells by the seashore! Some are broken, battered, small pieces that don’t even appear to come from a shell. We are torn up, broken, battered and sometimes not recognizable. Yet the Father finds us…and let’s us know that we are of use. We are loved. He gently restores us and uses us and loves us…just as we are……Praise God.
So next time you are walking along that beach…pick up the shells, but don’t forget the pieces.
IN CHRIST ALONE