01 Dec The Perfect Shell
There was a giant, pink and white conch shell sitting on the registration desk of the hotel. The girls and I admired it as the concierge walked by and nodded toward the shell, saying, “You can find those on the beach.”
We were delighted by this bit of information, already imagining the fun of finding our own beautiful shell during our vacation.
We took a long walk on the beach. No shell.
We swam in the water and dove down with our goggles to look closely at the sandy bottom. No shell.
We took another long walk in the opposite direction. No shell.
The girls were disappointed. I was disappointed.
The next day, we went on an even longer walk. And then it happened. We stumbled upon thousands of conch shells, right at the water’s edge. Their pointy tops jutted out from the sand. We dug our hands in and uncovered one after another.
And then we began noticing the flaws. A shell that Emma dug up had a big hole in the side. One I had found was cracked. Ella found one that was splotchy in color. We tossed each rejected shell to the side and back into the water, determined to only go back with a perfect one.
For an hour, we dug and critiqued. Finally, we walked back with two that we deemed pretty good. “If only this one didn’t have this chip,” I said. “This would be so perfect if it wasn’t missing this pokey part,” Ella said.
As we walked, I thought about how quickly our expectations had shifted. Had we stumbled upon only one imperfect shell, it would have been enough. Now, with thousands to choose from, our standards had changed and we accepted only perfection.
I stopped walking. I told the girls we were going back to the shells with a new plan – to find ones that had something interesting about them. And you know what? We found some beautiful, utterly imperfect shells that we packed in our suitcases and brought home.
Emma’s has a giant hole in the side that she loves because it allows you to see right into the center of the spiral. Ella loves hers because it makes the most beautiful sound of the ocean. And me? I found a tiny chip of a shell that I stuffed in my pocket. It’s sitting next to my computer right now.
Because what I hope the girls and I remember from our shell-hunting experience is that perfection can be an obstacle to so many things. It tends to keep us cramped and fearful and disappointed. Perfection keeps us holding back. It lurks around, convincing us that what we do or have isn’t enough, paralyzing us from trying new things. I hope that every time we look at our perfectly imperfect shells, we remember that life is full of mistakes and falling short. We can celebrate messes and flaws as part of having a big, happy, full life.