Monday, August 23, 2010

like ocean glass

I’ve been drawn to collecting ocean glass for years.  Whenever I see glass pebbles peeking out of the sand on the beach, I can’t help but bend down and draw them out.  I don’t think this really contravenes the “take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints” ethos of our culture, does it?  I kind of figured that ocean glass is man-made, so I’m really actually helping to restore the beach to its natural state.  The base elements of glass, I understand, are perhaps I am a disturber of the beach ecosystem after all.  
The sunlight pours through the jar of collected ocean glass on my kitchen windowsill; the light refracting and casting muted shades of green, blue, and amber onto the walls around me.  My life feels like ocean glass.  Created by God.  Shaped by God, and yet shaped by this world.  A part of this world, and, at times, shattered in it.  Jagged edges that smooth into softness, then become chipped again.  Broken before God, and retrieved by God.
Beauty and brokenness.

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