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Anatomy of a seashell

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(This is a companion piece to my last entry, “I see you.”) Recently, I visited a public library and picked up books on seashells, in particular, shells found where I live. It's an odd thing to realize these were once homes for creatures. In the back of your head, you know that, but when you're on the beach and looking at shells, you're looking for a pretty one or one that isn't damaged. You’re not thinking about what used to be. All you care about is what you’re holding. Is it useful? Is it pretty? Some have holes bored through from some other, wickeder creature. Do we realize these shells are armor, that what transpires under the waves is battle, life and death, that these discarded shells are testament to wars won or lost, some poor creatures having been pulled from their shells or digested right in them? Maybe it's just calcium carbonate to the average beachgoer, if they even consider the building blocks of what they’re holding, but now I look at them differently...
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I see you

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What follows is a text message — directed to the author of this blog — minus personal details, including the woman's name. I haven't logged on to this blog since last year about the time of my last post, shortly after the blog eclipsed 40,000 hits. Now it's nearing 50,000. The reason I came back was to correct something: I was wrong. There was a happy ending, as the following reveals. My next post explains more. I include much of her message because it answered many whispered prayers over the years. No, God didn't answer how I expected, but, when we let Him lead, we must trust He has what is best for us. If you're wishing for a partner, the Lord knows your heart. Do not expect any gift to be given without testing. God needs to know if you can handle the gift. Otherwise, it will ruin you.  What follows is a love letter, but, unlike so many on this blog, I didn't write it. It was written to me. She said it first. She said, "I love you." It was important ...
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