Walking along the beach alone this morning, I found myself drawn to the shells. Not the perfect ones but the ones that have been discarded, apparently not good enough for someone’s shelf. As I picked up one particle bit of shell I stared at it, and rolled it around in my hand. The more I looked at it, the more it reminded me of…well, me. Cracked with lines and worn down from the ocean, but somehow through the cracks, beauty is exposed.
Perfect in it’s imperfections,
just like me.
A little bit of love by Andy Ryan