Shells

We recently returned from a week at Ft. Story.  Very relaxing - no internet, no cell, no news from this crazy place known as northern Virginia.  While we were there, I was really trying to be paying attention to the moment and to the blessings otherwise known as my kids.  They loved the beach.  We went every morning, several afternoons, and even a few evenings after dinner.  They never failed to enjoy finding crabs, searching for the perfect shell, and jumping in the waves.

While I was walking along the beach, keeping an eye out for just the right shell, I asked God what I should take away from this.  I seem to hear God in nature, as I have said before.  Here's what I "heard".

There are thousands, if not millions of shells out there.  None are perfect.  We like them anyway, don't we??  They're all different - colors, shapes, sizes - even the broken ones are interesting.  How did they get broken?  Why are the same kinds of shells broken in different ways?  Do I consider every PERSON as interesting as a shell?  Do I wonder how they got broken?  Do I find them beautiful anyway?  Or do I just want to "toss them back" instead of learning more about them?

This is a bit disjointed, but I'm feeling convicted in my relations with people.  I do have a tendency to be judgmental and assuming.  I want to see people as Jesus sees them.  Broken people with broken hearts who need to be loved and pointed to Christ.