Broken and Shattered

(Psalm 34:18) ".... If your heart is broken, you'll find God right there..."

My family will be returning to the beach in a few months. I know that I will find peace and rest there. I know that I will find God in His purest form. I always have.

The waters seem to know its' season. Nature speaks to each other and obey God's commands. There will be storms this time of year. The waves will crash as they will seem to know something. The skies will grow dark, as they too will know nature's secret. Even in nature's wrath, I will see God's beauty--the seashells. I will get lost for hours collecting shells.

We are a lot like seashells, no two alike. Many of us carry our own uniqueness. Some are plain but carry a special purpose. Some are big, some are small but all are beautiful. Many of the shells I will find will be broken.

Am I not broken?

I will find some seashells radiant in color. I will pick them up. Their colors will be breathtaking. I will put them in my pocket. God is like that. Even in our

non-perfect state, He gathers us up in His hand, puts us in His pocket and takes us home.

As I continue my search for shells, I will not notice the man of war (the father of lies--Jn 8:44). It will be hidden in the beauty of the shells. I will step on it, however, its sting will be gone. Furthermore, God will use it for the good. I will notice that a small crab will come and take it home for food. The sudden threat replaced with assurance of God's plan.

I will continue my walk and realize that I am no longer focused on those things around me. I will realize that that was God's plan all along, that I will be fruitful; pouring myself out to others wanting nothing for myself. I will realize that my journey has only just begun in serving my Abba. And that in ten years from now if you see me, I will tell you that I still have only just begun my journey.

As I begin my walk back to my room on the beach, the black clouds will roll in. They will begin to pour out their tears. The winds will whisper and the ocean mist will brush against my face. And it will be there that I will see a light shining through the darkness, it is there that I will see the "Son".

And it is there that I will say thanks Dad.....

For picking up my broken and shattered life and carrying me home.

Your beloved daughter,

Connie