She loves the broken ones

Eliza’s favorite thing to do at the beach is to collect shells. I think that it’s the introvert in her, which loves to just be alone, wandering nearby the action, seeing what she can find. She brought home several freezer ziplocks, full of shells, most of which were not the typical “put on display” variety. Most of them were broken, missing huge chunks. Not the kind that I would pick up and keep; I like my shells to be well-shaped, un-mussed by the tide (kind of the way I like my life to work, too). When I asked Eliza why she liked to pick up broken shells, she really surprised me. She said, “I like them better because they have interesting shapes. They have all sorts of cool shapes and colors.”

The very thing that I thought made the shells unattractive is what draws Eliza to pick them up. In brokenness she sees beauty. What a contrast to how I usually view brokenness. Brokenness is something to be left “on the beach,” hidden from the critical eye of the world.

But my experience in life, thankfully, is that brokenness is what endears my friends to me and me to them. When I see the frailties of my own life, and when others allow me to see theirs, we become more real, not versions dressed up for display.

I hope that Eliza extends her love of brokenness from the shells on the beach to the people that she encounters in life, that she finds them interesting and beautiful not in spite of their brokenness but because of it.

I went on a walk today and collected some broken shells to show Eliza; I’m learning to see the beauty in them, too.