coming to terms

It's been a long, long time since I've written anything....Or at least finished writing anything. It's been a busy few years having young kids, and despite all of the thoughts in my head I've been at a loss for the time to write them down. I'm going to give it another try...No promises!

When I was about seven or eight my grandparents took my cousin Micah and I to the beach, and we took a walk early one morning. We had been walking for a little while, when my grandparents yelled from up ahead for us to look out into the shallow waves. Rolling in was a big seashell...like the ones you'd find in a seaside shop, shiny and pink inside. Micah ran out and grabbed it, and we all admired how huge and perfect it was. We walked on, and a few minutes later another shell came rolling in, and I ran out and grabbed that one. It was just as big and flawless as the first, and I was so happy that I had found one too. We were in awe of our luck!

Some time later my grandparents told Micah and I the real story. As we walked along the beach that day, they had been hiding those two shells in a beach bag. They threw them out into the surf for us to find, and let us believe that they we had found them ourselves. I'm sure that people walking by saw the whole thing, and smiled at our innocence and excitement. We would never have known the truth had they not told us later on, and I thought it was an even sweeter story after I knew the truth behind it. I don't know where that shell is now...I wish I had it still, as a reminder of how much my grandparents love us and desire for us the joy of a good find.

I think that God throws us a lot of shells - beauties that are all shined up for us. But more often I think He throws us things that we pick up and would love to throw back into the ocean. Those ugly, broken, barnacle covered shells are the ones that come crashing onto our shores. I don't necessarily think that those ugly things will ever be pretty. All the polishing in the world won't make abuse, loss, sickness, fear, abandonment, failure, or brokenness beautiful or desirable. But we can allow God to give those things purpose, and we can allow Him to change our hearts through the tough stuff. I also believe, at least in my own life, that the times when we are the most broken are the times when our God shows us most clearly who He really is. He is the God who sees us, He is our peace, He is our righteousness, He is our provider, He is there...He is the great I AM.

This past year has been one of indescribable loss and overwhelming change for me. I am struggling to allow Him to give it purpose, and so I write all of this as a reminder to myself of what I know He can do - of what He has done so many times before. Although it isn't my first choice to experience pain and loss, I know that God can turn it into a symbol of His victory and presence in my life. Every minute I need Him, for all that He is, and in the end I hope that what I do with the ugliness of life will glorify Him and bring others to Him.