I found a few shells on one of our last mornings on the beach. The best I could tell, I was the second person on the beach that day. I was looking for this certain type of conical shell that I really like, but it’s hard to find one in perfect shape. Michaela and I had looked all week with no luck. So on this quiet early morning, I found myself thinking about perfection.
We sure seem to seek – and expect it – from lots of people and even places. Our week of vacation was a good week. Perfect? Nope. But I’m learning to see life more through Michaela’s eyes – she sees the broken shells and just gushes over them – she wonders how much they’d bring on eBay since they’re “soooooo pretty!”
I have two beautiful, wonderful children and a loving wife that keeps us all together. We’ve had a quiet, gorgeous week on the beach. We’ve laughed. We’ve played. I’ve growled less and relaxed more. So, ya, we’ve spent money, spilt fingernail polish and left books unfinished. But we sure are ‘closer to fine’ that we were 7 days ago. And that’s perfect for me. Thanks be to God, who taught me through some broken shells that He loves the imperfect perfectly. AMEN.
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