Sea Glass

I've always loved finding sea glass. As a child, my mother used to keep a jar of it on the windowsill, and I would take them out and sort them by colors, admiring their frosty appearance and smooth edges. The whole idea of sea glass always fascinated me - broken pieces of bottles tossed and smoothed by the water, creating small fragments of art.

A few weeks ago, I went up to Ithaca, NY to visit D. The camp where he has spent the last few summers working is located right on the Finger Lakes - a perfect place to find sea glass. It's literally all over the place - as long as you're willing to look amongst all of the smooth rocks and fairy stones. It's become a bit of an addiction for me, whenever I visit. I like to walk along the rocky shore, hearing the crunch of the tiny stones and shells beneath my footsteps, and scour the coastline for tiny bits of colored glass. Sometimes D joins me in this endeavor, and we now have quite the collection of white, blue, purple, and green pieces.

It was on my most recent visit that I found myself spending quite a bit of solitary time walking along the edge of the lake. D was sick, resting in his cabin, and I was wandering to clear my head. Loving a man who is so frequently sick has definitely changed my perspective on life and love. I've been learning more about servant love through this whole experience (something that does not come naturally for me), and have been surprised by the peace that God brings to me through this experience. Not to imply in any way that I am joyful because D is sick, but having the opportunity to help him and serve him while he is in need has pushed me into a role I never thought I would be able to play well. I've always been rather self-serving, both in my relationship with others and my relationship with God. But trying to support D during his sickness has shown me what it really means to love - not the butterflies and giddiness that I still feel whenever he looks at me - but the solid, servant love that God requires of us. And it has shown me how God could take someone like me, with my horrible bed-side manor, and put me into a situation that, while difficult, has forced me to change some of that selfishness. I am still not sure why D has to suffer the way he has - I know I'll never fully understand God's plan - but what God has done in my life (and in D's) because of this has proven to me his faithfulness. Good things can come out of bad things. God has forced me to be more loving and more giving than I have ever been before, and from that both D and myself have grown closer to knowing the nature of God. What a blessing! While I am still unsteady at times, especially as the possibility of surgery for D looms closer, I know that I just have to put my fears and worries into His hands, because He can make anything good and it will all work for His glory!

So these are the things that were going through my head while searching for sea glass along the lake. To be completely honest, there was some anger, as well - the selfish part of me re-emerging, upset about the interruption of "our" plans, both for the weekend and for our lives, because of this sickness. But I sat in the warm afternoon sun holding a large piece of blue sea glass - my favorite -and started thinking about the nature of God. Who is God, and what can He do?

I think we can learn a lot about God's works from examining sea glass. In its original form, it is really just a broken piece of glass - probably clear or brown to begin with, but trash nonetheless. Sharp, pointed edges that easily cut, essentially useless to anyone and quite possibly dangerous of not handled properly. But overtime, in the currents of the water, the edges of the glass are smoothed out. The colors transform - clear into a frosty white, brown softens into a chocolate shade. The longer the glass is in the water, the smoother the edges become. The longer it sits on the shore, the color changes. Clear turns to white, which eventually turns to a delicate light blue. Brown eventually softens into a hazy sunset purple. From ugly pieces of trash come beautiful fragments that are collected and cherished - no longer hazzardous or useless, but now admired.

The thing that struck me most when thinking about the journey of sea glass is that no matter how beautiful it becomes, it will never become "complete" again. An entire bottle thrown into the sea shows no such weathering or changes. The glass must first be broken to become beautiful. Psalm 51:17 tells us that "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise." Directly above that is one of my favorite verses - 51:10: "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me." This is exactly what God does with us when we are broken. When we are used up, useless, troubled, scared, and uncertain - God can use that if we let Him. Just like the sea glass tossed among the waves, the more we allow God to use our brokenness, the more beautiful He can make us. We are His works of art, used to glorify Him, as long as we allow Him the control to do this. Even when everything in our lives starts to feel "complete" again - we must remember to approach God from this spirit of brokenness to allow for His glory and grace. So while I'm struggling with the "why's" and "what for's" of D's sickness, and questioning how God can be glorified through such pain, I am trying to remember that we must first be broken to be blessed and transformed. And, just like the sea glass, the longer we trust in God, the more beautiful He will make us.