One Shell of a Story



I have way too many shells. 

While our 32-miles of  beaches in Gulf Shores are filled with good vibes and sunshine, the shell scene isn't that vibrant. Sure, you'll find plenty of scallops and the lettered olives are really cool but I'd never really been blown away by what I'd found. Now don't get me wrong, I still come home with pockets full of shells. They just all kind of look the same.

But then the storm rolled in. And that's when I saw her. 

She was half buried in the sand and she was huge. 

A 7.5-inch Lightning Whelk.

She was just lying on the sand, right there, in front of God and everybody. Oh my luck! How had everyone walked right past her? I ran down and grabbed her, scooping her up, doing a quick exam to make sure she wasn't someone's home. That's when it became obvious why she'd been passed by and that she certainly wasn't anyones home.

I kept her anyway.

Walking back to Sandy Feet Retreat I saw how people marveled at her. Some even asked where I'd found her. They weren't looking at her closely, they didn't see the breaks and cracks on the other side. 

I feel like this shell sometimes. Good on the outside, on the surface. Then turn me around and really look and you'll see some cracks, some breaks. It usually happens on winter days up north when I don't want to leave the house. I don't want to engage with people. Some days I just don't have it in me. Those are the days I know I need it most. People, sunshine, engagement. And when I push myself on those days I find the most blessings.

While we're in Gulf Shores the sunshine, warm weather and the sea rejuvenate me, they refresh me. Throw in some worship music and I'm on Cloud 9.

"You're not taking that thing home are you?" asks The Mister.

"Yup," I say. "Now we just need to figure out how to get her home safely."


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