A Million Shells

Glancing at a beach full of vacated shells I had a revelation about my own life. At the beach, I notice how many shells have washed upon the shore beside me. These regal pieces of the deep blew me away. So many differences, each one individual, each simple. This short walk let me gaze upon millions of these shells. Yet wondering how many more are in the great deep. The ocean, how vast and widespread, how beautiful, deep, and majestic. How many more shells are in this place? It's the incarnate vision of how many grains of sand bring soft sweet space to the beaches of the world, and the lustrous shells that scatter themselves along the sand.
It seems to me that those shells are much like the pieces of our lives. Beautiful and broken, we pick up the pieces one by one until we can salvage enough to put ourselves back together. It may take some longer than others. I may be harder for one than others, because others are continually tearing them down. But when they are all in their place again. One finds joy in seeing how beautiful the final creation is.
It is the pieces of our life, the little incandescent fragments that hold no value on their own, but rather become who we are. A small little pinkish shell piece may be the values of your parents, ever present in you. The soft white little piece that has no shimmer, may be your past experiences. All in all, you take one at a time, glue them back together, and behold a new work of art. It is yourself, and as the days grow, you find more beautiful shells, and deeper ones to make up your character. You keep adding, and adding until there is no more room, or you find yourself at that place there you're beaten down, and you have to pick up all the pieces again. Nevertheless, those slight little fragments, will always make up a beautiful you.