An Imperfect Life

Walking on the beach in Aptos CA one can expect to see thousands of pieces of wood and rocks pushed onto the beach by the waves. It’s fascinating the different shapes and colors you see. Walking along I pick up a few to examine and place the more interesting ones in my pocket to take home.
I notice that most have been tumbled by the sea into round flat shapes but there are some whose shape is less than perfect. Perhaps a random shell is imbedded in it creating holes and odd shapes in the rock.
I got to thinking about our lives as these rocks.
I always considered my life to be like those round rocks- tumbled and tumbled, over and over, worn smooth and round by the force of the ocean of life, made more and more perfect by time.
Happiness, sadness, trouble, success all contributing to smoothing out the edges.
But as I walk I am drawn to the rocks that aren’t round. The rocks with various “stuff” stuck in them- shells, glass, even a screw. Those with holes you could see through, where something had been there but broke off creating an odd, imperfect shape.
This is more like the life I have had.
I spent the majority of my life being tumbled round, and round or so I thought. But the reality is that the perfect round that I was expecting of my life is not what is true.
Each piece of my life has contributed to an imperfect shape. The births and deaths, happiness, sadness, love and loss have all have played their part in creating the shape of my life. It isn’t perfect. It isn’t round. It isn’t what I expected.
It simply is.
Setting aside my expectations, I bend down and pick up one of these “imperfect” rocks and put it in my pocket. It will come home with me and sit on my desk as a reminder of this day- the smell of the ocean, the birds flying overhead, my daughter walking beside me, the dog exploring the edge of the water. A day where the imperfect is perfectly ok.

Have a great day- we’ll talk more later.

gayle