I woke up when I wanted to this morning. It felt delicious, even decadent, to stretch and stare out the window, not even checking the time. My busiest day of the week has a new form now, the outline of the summer that’s coming. Slow, simple, intuitive, a big exhale. I kept my morning routine, but moved slowly, telling myself that there is no hurry. I read, did a crossword puzzle, contemplated, swallowed a Zyrtec. I noticed my plastic grocery bag of shells gathered from Holden Beach, tucked away next to a bedroom chair.
I pulled out each one and lined them up on my windowsill, almost like a meditation. I remembered which child found which shell, offering them up to me like small birthday presents from themselves and God, as we walked the beach Sunday evening. I smile remembering the delight of Henry, my youngest, finding a lovely cream and pinkish-red scallop shell, fully formed, knowing it would please me. And there is the olive shell that Will was proud to find, knowing that they are one of my favorites. And John, with his eagle eyes, knowing my abiding love for moon shells and whelks, studying the ground to offer me any that he could spot.
Wherever I travel, my souvenirs are always small tokens from nature. I walk in new places, keeping my eyes focused, grounding myself in the present, and look for the offerings that feel like finding a piece of God. His art is flung generously across the globe, each piece known and made from His heart. Everywhere I look I see the manifestation of His goodness, the representation of His marvelous mind, the fascinating ways He makes and gives and repeats His ideas in fresh ways. I never get over it. Being in creation is like an endless, generous treasure hunt, and I can’t help but be in awe of the ongoing creative generation that flows from the heart of Christ.
I place my finds in small bowls, clear jars, tuck them into shelves, side tables, near sinks. My bedside table has a few ocean finds from many years ago. Sometimes I pack away shells in the winter, but bring them back out in late spring, and enjoy their beauty throughout the summer. I have small pinecones, abandoned nests, rocks. In the fall, I will find a single glorious maple or oak leaf and place it alone in a small vase. I have a lovely piece of coral I found in Fort Lauderdale when I was visiting for my brother’s funeral. That piece makes me think of him, and the winding journey of life that we each choose.
All of these are reminders to me of God’s intricate care, design, order and rule over the earth. My small mind can’t comprehend His whys and hows, the mysteries of His mind and will. I get to spend eternity having Him reveal His creative heart to me, exploring the wonders of His art. What joy that will bring! Today I simply line up the shells, admire, praise, recognized the abundance. For now, that is good enough.
Your writing is beautiful, Aimee! I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying reading and pondering the thoughts you share with us. Thank you!