My Perfect Shell

Vacations at the beach often involved a quest -- to find the perfect shell. A big, perfect shell like so many I have seen in stores or in photos, but never really in person.

While searching for the perfect shell I discovered something else. The broken, fragmented shells had a different beauty. You could imagine the story behind each one. How was it broken? How many years had the movement of the waves worn away the edges to create the smooth surface on this broken shell? Looking at imperfection meant looking at the shell's history, its travels, its adventures and misadventures.

And then I realized, it wasn't just shells. When people study dolphins and manatees, they name them and track them. How do they tell one manatee from the next? How do they know that the one they call "Sarah" today is the same one they called "Sarah" yesterday? They look for the markings, the scars. The thought is tragic, when you first think what happened to leave that mark. Then you realize, it is the scars that identify them. The wounds incurred and healed help us to know one manatee from the next.

Can we be so different? We are defined by our experiences. We are forged in the fire of our challenges, and we refine who we are. Our scars, visible or not, are part of who we are. We can't be a perfect specimen, free of flaws and still live our adventures.