Don't Squander the Wander!

I was on the hunt for shells. The fog enveloped the sun, and gave little sight to distance. The old men were lined up on the shore with their fishing poles anchored to the sand, just beyond the moist footprint of the waves. Sitting in frayed beach chairs talking about the issues of the world, these seasoned fellows reminded me of old women gossiping at a quilting circle.

This trip has been filled with sand dollars. Tiny bleached out treasures the size of a quarter. So frail, but so special. I’ve already broken two, and given away one. It was a pay it forward situation. The first day shelling we met a lady who had found quite a few, and she shared one with us. That was a first! So, I was glad to give one I found to our new friends yesterday. We still have plenty. Can’t outgive God!

Today I wandered down the shell line, looking for my favorites. Often lately, I ask God, what shell do you have for me today? As if the God of the Universe has time for such petty inquiries. He listens, and joins me on my quest.

Focusing on my conversation with God on a way-too-overcast day, picking up a shell or two, watching the waves meander in, I felt the presence of God as thick as the fog. Our usual interaction on the beach goes like this: I ask, what shell do you have for me today? And inevitably, by the end of the wander I have found some sort of unusual shell or a new kind all together. We serve that kind of God. He delights in giving us the little blessings as much as the miracles. Today, I felt God asking, what kind of shell do you want to find? Like a bucket list shell.

Junonia. Like the ones in Sanibel.

They have washed up around here, but very rarely. So, that was the most outlandish thing I could think of. A Junonia shell. I felt like I needed to repent of my unbelief that God would do such a thing. After all, if He wanted, I could turn to the left and see a shoreline full of fancy shell shop specimens, like those she kept in glass cases. That’s the God we serve, and He created them all anyway, so totally feasible. Actually that would be nothing of a challenge for Him. But, as I glance to the left, it is the same line of shells that was there a minute ago. Yes, Lord, I hear you. Thank you. You are able. But today You have a different plan.

I see the line of shells, piled up then absent, then another trickle, and yet another pile on a ridgeline of sand. Much like the people in our lives. I have had my season where I just grabbed piles of treasures and threw them in a Ziploc to sort through later. Having no idea what was hiding in the mix. Today I’m hyperaware that this is so much like the 5000 friends on facebook, etc. or the big crowd of “friends” that one day you realize are just acquaintances at most, with some who are hindrances at best. Do we really know who and what has been given access to our lives?

Next, I start pondering the season I’m in now. While there are so many nice, pleasing shells that I could hold on to, I’m more choosy. More selective. Not swayed by only the perfect looking choices. No, it isn’t that they have to have it all together and be just right for a display. Some are broken, cracked, and worn. Yet I see past the imperfections to the colors and personalities of the shell that bring me joy. And, if there is another one just a few feet away, I don’t need that one too. I just need the one God drew me too. My shell bag gets more sparce, but the stories and the memories are richer.

Thank you, Jesus, for this life, and for Your love. You bless me with the desire to be selective, to be effective, to bring You glory.