shells.

Right there under my toes, there were hundreds upon thousands of broken pieces. Shattered and scattered amidst the ocean's sand. Their bright colors clashed against the black volcanic ash-like sand of the Nicaraguan shoreline, a sparkle of hope in darkness. As I walked alongside them, I couldn't help but somehow feel connected to these broken, battered, seemingly-useless shells.

Shells - these shells - their broken pieces press into the bottom of my tender feet and I feel them speaking their story. A story of being broken and shattered and completely undone by the ocean's harsh conditions. A story of being washed up onto the shore and completely forgotten as each passerby looks out to loud, screamingly beautiful sea. A story of being rejected as little hands forge through the delicate, broken pieces in search of the one or two that are whole. Because somehow being completely whole, without a single hole or scratch or missing piece has become the standard for beauty. Has become what our eyes are drawn to and long for and seek out.

I feel for these shells. That feeling of feeling completely unwanted - it slays you. But as I look closer at these million broken pieces, I feel something different swelling up in me. Because when I look, really look, the whole collection of broken pieces that are all right there together under my feet, it's just so dang beautiful. All these shells scattered together - big and small, broken and whole, loud and quiet, colored and muted - when they are all laid out in front of me, I can't help but notice their undeniable, unspeakable beauty. A kind of beauty that lets the soul breathe and the heart sigh and the eyes leak the holiest of tears.

This is the definition of beauty I need for my own life. When I get enough courage to truly look at all the broken pieces that make up my heart and soul and mind, that I would see grace, not shame. Hope, not darkness. Love, not guilt. Acceptance, not rejection. Beauty, not brokenness.

Because the truth of the matter is that no matter how broken life might feel, our broken pieces tell a story. Our story. My story. And these million little beautiful pieces that are scattered all around me - these are the million little ways that Jesus is whispering His beautiful love for me.