As I (attempt to) write this, one child is singing songs from “Frozen” at the absolute TOP of her lungs about four feet from me, in the bathtub.  My other one is asking me, “Would you rather MARRY your best friend, or EAT A TOAD!?

Sometimes this journal is quite a practice in focus! I find myself fading tonight, and I feel pressed to get this entry done before I put the girls to bed. I can already tell it’s one of those nights in which I’ll likely doze off during bedtime stories. It hasn’t happened in a while, but when it does, I literally start slurring my words or making no sense whatsoever as my head lolls. The girls find this hilarious (which would be fine, if only their peals of laughter didn’t wake me up!! So inconsiderate!).

“What are you writing about, Mom?”

“I’m writing about how people might not think this shell is pretty, because it’s not perfect. You see it has barnacles on it…”

Thing 1 – “Like how people are actually beautiful on the inside even though they might not be so perfect on the outside?”

Thing 2 – “I think she means WARTS.”

Anyway…

img_2724-1

I snapped this photo in Florida last week and I have been thinking about how to articulate what I see when I look at this little beauty.

Once upon a time this scallop was a perfect specimen, new and unblemished.

Somewhere along the way, barnacles came along and attached themselves, just as the residue of traumatic life experiences may attach itself to us.

See how the color pattern of the scallop has actually been drawn up into the barnacle?  The barnacle has forever changed this scallop shell.

They are one.

Not unlike the barnacle, some traumatic experiences may attach to us so strongly that they become a part of who we are, forever changing our very being.

So, do you pass by this imperfect, weather worn shell, looking for something shinier?

Or do you see within it something that has been beautifully and irreversibly transformed into something of far more interest?

I’ll show you my barnacles if you’ll show me yours…

{I’ll leave you with that thought, before I start lolling and slurring.}

 

 

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