Shells

The kids and I love to collect shells at the beach. We walk along, scooping up shells and wash them in the waves.

I was the designated shell bag holder. As the boys would scurry to me, holding piles of shells dripping with wet sand, they would exclaim each time, "Look, Mom! Look at this one!"

I would admire each one before it was dropped into the shell bag. 

I noticed not long into our shell expedition that my shells were only complete shells. I only picked up perfect shells with no broken parts or missing pieces.

The boys picked up any shell that caught their eye, even if it was just a fragment. 

I found myself wanting to say, "But that's just a piece of a shell..." but I didn't. I let them drop those pieces in the bag. The pieces came to rest among my whole shells.

And you know what? That is so me. 

I don't like broken. 

I don't like it when I'm broken. 

I feel like when I sin, or when I fail, or when I fall, or when I stumble, I have to clean my self up and "fix" myself before I come before God.

I feel like He won't love me until I get myself all squared away and "clean" again.

I have a hard time worshiping when I've stumbled. Even when I've asked forgiveness and repented. I feel like God is mad at me. I feel like I have to do pentance until I'm clean again.

It cheapens the Gospel. It nullifies what Christ did on the cross. 

And I hate it.

It carries over into relationships too.

I don't ask for help.

I just shut down and figure it all out.

I'd much rather say, "I really fell apart yesterday, but I'm fine today" than to say, "I'm falling apart. Please help me."

I've never been so aware of this more than lately.

It's hard to be vunerable and say, "Help me." I hate to admit, "I'm struggling."

I'd rather say, "Leave me alone until I get this worked out."

For me, it's even more difficult for me to allow someone to help.

But for the first time in a long time, I feel the pull to allow. To accept help. 

To ask for it.

And even more than that, I've felt the pain of not allowing someone to help. I've felt the pain of seeing what the words "I can do it by myself" can cause. We need to be needed. We need to be allowed to help. We need to hear the words, "I need you..."

It's okay to let someone help.

I want to be able to accept help humbly. I don't want to act like I can do this by myself, because I can't.

I'm learning that just because you ask for help, that doesn't necessarily make you a burden. It doesn't mean that you are a weight. It doesn't mean that you are asking for too much.

I don't have to be whole all the time. 

How much do I love that my boys found beauty in brokenness? How thankful am I that they love me so much in spite of all of my brokenness, both in parenting and in being a child of God?

Hi. My name is Amy. I am broken. And that's okay.

I'm learning to see the beauty in being broken.